Further Up and Further In
by CaptAcorn
Summary: Three years after Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant, Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres have settled into their marriage and their careers in Starfleet. That is until violent terrorists disrupt their lives and threaten their relationship.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** You could consider this a sort of bookend to my pre-series story Looking for Space (but you don't need to have read that story to enjoy or understand this one.). Rated T for language, and some vague discussions of violence. All the thanks go to Sareki02 and Photogirl1890 for their invaluable input while I was writing this thing. All the standard disclaimers about me not owning anything apply.

* * *

"Lieutenant Torres!" Lieutenant Commander Zahne barked. "My office! Now!"

B'Elanna Torres rolled her eyes. There were many things she liked about her job working in the Propulsion department at Starfleet's Utopia Planitia station, but her new boss was not one of them. B'Elanna was twice the engineer Zahne pretended to be, but the powers that be felt the man's inexhaustible knowledge of Starfleet regulations made up for the fact that he barely knew a plasma conduit from a phase inducer - and so he was B'Elanna's immediate superior. According to the brass, Zahne also possessed "people skills," but B'Elanna suspected that was code for "has well-placed connections." At any rate, it was clear these alleged skills didn't extend to half-Klingons - at least not half-Klingons that were smarter than he was. With a deep sigh, B'Elanna rose from her station and walked to his office.

"We've talked about this, Torres," Zahne started before B'Elanna even got all the way through the door. "You can't just make changes in a design like this without clearing them with me."

"The original design was flawed!" she said incredulously. "The impulse drive would have burned out if it was set at the previous parameters. I have to check with you before making an obviously needed correction now?"

"Yes, Lieutenant," Zahne snapped back. "Until I'm convinced you know when it's appropriate to consult with your superiors, I want all changes cleared by me. I've tried being nice about this, but that doesn't seem to be working for you."

B'Elanna bit back the retort that begged to be spat out. Nice? Is that what Zahne called the simpering, condescending tone he had used when he had first taken over the department six weeks ago? B'Elanna could think of a few other adjectives that were a lot more accurate.

"And I think calling the original design 'flawed' is overstating things a bit, don't you?" Zahne continued. _Of course you think that_ , B'Elanna seethed in silence - the stocky, pallid man had clearly missed the problem when he did the initial review of the schematics. B'Elanna tuned out the rest of Zahne's droning nonsensical explanation for why he had been justified in rubber stamping an impulse drive that would have wiped out most of the ship if it were ever engaged. She had to use every ounce of focus she had to keep her mouth shut and her expression calm. Tuvok would be proud of her, really - she was using one of the visualization techniques he had shown her back on _Voyager_. Sure, she was visualizing ripping her superior officer's heart out through his chest, but whatever works, right?

"I hope you'll think about what I said, Ms. Torres." And back to condescending. Sorry, _nice_.

"Of course, Commander," B'Elanna said, carefully modulating her tone to be as bland as possible as she left the office, desperately missing its former occupant.

Her previous CO, Arhan Karga, would never have made an error like Zahne's. The Turkish man was not only a brilliant warp theorist, but he had an intuitive mind for engine design that B'Elanna envied. She'd learned more than she thought possible from the old man - and not only about engineering. The entire department had been devoted to him; and he even managed to get the best out of engineers B'Elanna would have given up as hopeless, with little more than an occasional mild expression of disappointment.

A few weeks into her new position, she and Tom had been having dinner, and she spent nearly twenty minutes extolling Arhan's praises. Not surprisingly, Tom had teased her about it.

"Do I need to be worried?" he said, grinning at her.

"Don't be an ass, Tom. He's nearly eighty," she said in exasperation.

Her husband only kissed her lightly on the head as he cleared their dishes away. "Looks like somebody herself found a mentor."

She had rolled her eyes at him, but had been secretly pleased. Because Tom had been right - Arhan had taken her under his wing in a way that she hadn't experienced before. Chakotay and Janeway had been mentors in their own right, to be sure, but they weren't _engineers_. And Arhan wasn't just a good teacher and CO - he looked out for her, too. That became even more clear three months ago, when he called her into his office to tell her his health was declining and he was finally ready to retire.

"I recommended that you take my place. Promote you to Lieutenant Commander, run the department, the whole thing. You're the best person for the job," he had said seriously.

"Thank you, sir." B'Elanna had been gratified by his trust, but also a bit confused. He was usually a genial, smiling man, and his somber tone didn't match the happy news he was giving her. She wondered if his health issues were more serious than he let on.

"They said no," he said, meeting her eyes with a steady gaze. "They said you didn't have enough leadership experience. I told them how ridiculous that was - you ran an entire engineering department on a stranded ship for seven years, for goodness' sake. But the answer was still no."

"Oh," was all B'Elanna managed as she sank into the chair in front of Arhan's desk.

"I'm sorry, B'Elanna," he said gently, reaching out to take her hand.

"Is this about the Maquis?" she said quietly, pulling it out of reach. She knew there were still plenty of people in Starfleet that disagreed with the decision that allowed most of the former rebels to retain their commissions once _Voyager_ was back in the Alpha Quadrant. "Or do you think it's about something else?" B'Elanna could think of a whole host of possibilities. Her temper. Her Klingon heritage. Her ties to the Paris family - maybe someone thought she was benefitting from favoritism? ( _That would be a first_.) There were many of the former _Voyager_ crew that weren't popular with Starfleet - Seven, Chakotay. Hell, even Janeway had her detractors amongst the brass. Perhaps it was B'Elanna's continuing friendship with one of them?

"I don't know, honestly," he said. "I do know that you are one of the brightest engineers I've ever worked with. And the hardest working one, too." He reached for her hand again, and this time she let him take it. "There are a lot of institutions that would be more than happy to have you."

She stared at him. "Are you saying I should resign my commission? Is it that bad?"

"I'm saying that if Starfleet doesn't value your skills and talent they way it should - and I'm not saying for certain that they don't - you'd be right to consider other options," Arhan replied. "And you'll have my letter of support to help you."

But Utopia Planitia's facilities were state of the art. She wouldn't have access to the same level of technology at MIT or Kyoto, and she knew her personality wouldn't exactly be compatible with the culture at the Vulcan Science Academy. It would also mean uprooting her family - Miral loved her pre-school, and she felt like Tom had made enough sacrifices for her career as it was. It wouldn't be fair to ask him to prioritize her job over his own again, as he had when they'd all come to Mars.

So she'd had Arhan over for a goodbye dinner on his last day, promised to visit him and his grandkids on Earth, and kept her concerns about what he told her to herself. However, despite her husband's frequently glib demeanor, Tom could be startlingly perceptive - especially when it came to his wife. He knew that she wasn't happy after Arhan left, but she'd managed to deflect him so far. He had enough to worry about recently with his own duties for her to burden him with something else.

But this time B'Elanna knew her patience was at an end. She was tired of Zahne's close minded and condescending attitude. She was tired of having her every decision questioned by someone who couldn't even understand them. And she was tired of Starfleet. She was realizing with each passing day that the experiences she had under Janeway and Arhan were the exceptions - not the rule. The bureaucracy, the politics, the endless esoteric regulations - she was done with all of it. Clearly her decision to leave the Academy almost thirteen years ago had been the right one; now she was ready to walk away again - this time for good.

She returned to her station feeling like a weight had been lifted. All she needed to do now was tell Tom. Maybe it would be good for him, too. The 'Fleet had been sending him off planet more and more, and she suspected there was something about his new posting that wasn't sitting well. It wouldn't be easy for any of them, but they'd figure it out. Being together was the important thing, after all, no matter where they were.

Once back at her desk, she noted her console blinking indicating a waiting message. She hoped it was her husband telling her he was coming home early - she and Miral both missed him when he had to go off world, and now that she'd made the decision, she didn't feel like waiting until tomorrow to tell him how miserable she was and that it was time for her to move on.

When she pulled up the message, though, she saw that it wasn't from Tom, but his father. And as soon as Owen's face appeared on the screen, B'Elanna knew something was wrong.

"B'Elanna, contact me as soon as you get this. Something's happened to Tom."


	2. Chapter 2

"Where is Daddy?" Miral asked for the third time since they'd gotten home.

"He's still on his mission, Miri," B'Elanna said absently as she paced their apartment. She felt like a caged animal. Tom was missing, and all she could do was sit here and wait for news.

Owen hadn't been able to give her much information when she called him back. He'd been told that Tom's team had long missed their rendezvous and not much else. He promised to get back to her when he found out more. B'Elanna had been left with nothing to do but pick their daughter up from childcare and sit on her hands at home. _Fuck this,_ she swore to herself as she fought to stay calm for her child's sake. At least on _Voyager_ she would have been involved in the investigation and rescue, been privy to any information that was available. Being in the dark like this was infuriating.

"Daddy is coming home soon?" Miral asked her, tugging at her shirt.

She picked up her daughter and held her in a tight hug. "I hope so, sweetie." She hadn't told the little girl anything, of course; she was too young to understand. But, even at three, Miral knew that something was not right. She kissed her daughter's soft curls, and hoped they'd both get some reassuring news soon.

B'Elanna should have never let her husband leave - she had suspected something was off with this mission from the beginning. Tom had been cagey about it in the two days leading up to his departure, refusing to give her details. He claimed that it was because it was classified and he wasn't allowed, but she suspected there was more to it than that. He hadn't been himself, either - distracted, impatient with Miral. She didn't push him to talk though, thinking it would just add to his stress. She regretted that decision now, but what made her most angry about the whole thing was that it was her fault he was on that ship in the first place.

Like all of the former _Voyager_ crew, Tom and B'Elanna had been given a six month extended leave and a lot of leeway in choosing their next assignments for Starfleet. Tom had been offered a plum assignment: Chief Conn Officer, a command track posting on a Galaxy-class ship with a first officer that would be moving on to her next assignment sooner rather than later. But the engineering department of the _Hamilton_ was chock full of talent; at best B'Elanna would be offered a minor position - a major step down from her role on _Voyager_. Tom was adamant that he would not split up their little family and he turned it down.

"Tom, this is a huge opportunity. That posting will be everything you love. You can't just pass it up!" she insisted when he told her his decision.

"Sure, I can," he replied as he lifted their giggling baby above his head. "And it is definitely _not_ everything I love." As he settled their daughter on his lap again, his tone turned serious even as he continued to smile at Miral. "My father wasn't around a lot when I was growing up, B'Elanna. I'm not going to miss Miri's childhood like he missed mine. I'm not budging on this. It's just a job."

So they focused on finding a position for B'Elanna instead. When she was offered the posting at the Shipyards, Tom got Owen to pull a few strings, ("See how much I love you?" he said to her. "I'm asking _my father_ for a favor."), and cobbled together a job for himself on Mars - some test pilot work, some cadet instruction. B'Elanna had been worried he would get bored, but Tom insisted he was happy where he was as long as she and Miral were with him.

And he had seemed content in the beginning, as far as B'Elanna could tell. But it turned out Starfleet was as worried about Tom's skills going to waste as his wife was. It started as a "suggestion" that he take a short term assignment on a science ship that was studying a particularly dangerous nebula. They needed good pilots to negotiate the tricky gravimetric shears associated with the phenomenon. Tom claimed he didn't want to do it, but B'Elanna figured he was just saying that for her and Miral's benefit. She was worried he was stagnating on Mars and encouraged him to go.

"It's only ten days, Tom - we'll be fine. You know you miss this kind of flying."

He must have impressed someone, because soon after that there were more temporary assignments, and it wasn't long before Starfleet didn't even give Tom the illusion that they were optional. The science missions hadn't worried B'Elanna much, but the most recent one was troubling. A group of separatist radicals from Ardana had been stirring up more and more trouble in Federation space. They called themselves the ZFT, an acronym for a phrase that in their native language roughly translated to "First Our Own." They were angry that their wealthy, powerful homeworld was forced to support the more struggling systems as part of their membership in the Federation. B'Elanna didn't see how their strategy of random violence against non-military transport ships and neutral space stations was supposed to convince their government to separate from the Federation, but that didn't stop them from causing increasing amounts of destruction. Casualties were the rule, not the exception with these people - the Maquis would have never have even considered the tactics or targets the ZFT used seemingly without a second thought. Starfleet was doing its best to combat the group by sniffing out and then infiltrating their bases, but it seemed like every time they eliminated one cell, three more sprung up in its place. A month ago, Tom had been assigned to the _Tyr_ , one of the small Defiant-class ships that patrolled the local sector. It was based out of the Mars colony, and the nature of their duties meant he'd still been home most nights, but he'd left for a longer mission three days ago.

"Come back safely, Flyboy, or I'll kill you myself," she had growled at him affectionately when he left that morning. She had expected his typical cheek in response.

Instead, he only gave her a small smile as he cupped Miral's chin. "I'll see you in a few days," he said quietly as he stepped out their front door.

"Tom?" she called after him as he strode down the hallway.

He paused and turned to her. "I'm late - I gotta go." He stared at her a beat longer. "I love you, B'Elanna."

Why hadn't she pushed him more, to tell her what was going on? She should have stopped him right there, asked him what was wrong. Had she really been so caught up in her own problems that she had ignored how deeply troubled her husband had been lately?

An alert from the communication console on their kitchen counter told her someone was trying to call. _Owen_. She hoped he had good news.

She opened the channel before even checking to see who it was. "Owen? Have you heard anything?"

Instead of her father-in-law, though, she was greeted by the concerned face of Tom's oldest sister, Kathleen. A talented doctor with a forthright nature and a wicked sense of humor, she and B'Elanna had become close friends over the past three years. "Sorry 'Lanna," she said apologetically. "It's just me. Dad asked me to call you and let you know they're on their way to you now."

"They're on their way? Who? What are you talking about?" B'Elanna worked to focus on Kathleen's words while still trying to control the little girl that was attempting to crawl up her leg with cries of "Auntie Kath!"

"Hi Miri," Kathleen said brightly before turning her attention back to her sister-in-law. "Mom and Dad. Dad thinks if he's on Mars, he'll have better luck getting answers. And Mom thought she could help with Miral."

 _Shit._ If there was anything that could distract B'Elanna from the fact that the man she loved had possibly been captured by violent terrorists, it was the thought of that man's mother showing up on her doorstep.

"I know," Kath groaned sympathetically when she saw B'Elanna's expression. "I tried to talk her out of it, but you know how she gets." Kathleen and Julia Paris did not have what one would call a close relationship. "God, I probably should have told her it was a great idea, then she never would have left Earth."

That earned her a small smile from B'Elanna. "It's fine. It _will_ help to keep Miral busy; she adores your mother."

"Well, somebody has to." Kath winked then, reminding B'Elanna so much of Tom it physically hurt. "Hey. He's going to be OK. If there's anything my little brother is good at, it's surviving. That, and making everyone worry about him. He just likes the attention."

"Thanks, Kath," B'Elanna said, trying her best to smile back. "We'll call when we know something." She closed the console, and went back to waiting.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I just wanted to thank everyone that has been kind enough to leave a review - I really appreciate it and I'm happy to see that people are enjoying the story. Any Fringe fans out there? There is a very small tribute to that show in this story.

* * *

Three days. It was three days before they had any concrete information about what happened to Tom's team, and what their captors wanted.

When Owen and Julia arrived on Mars, he went straight to the colony's HQ to get what information he could. Unfortunately, it wasn't that anyone was keeping information from Tom's family - it was that there was none to be had. They had missed their check-in, no one had been able to contact them, and there wasn't a trace of their whereabouts or their shuttle.

Owen _was_ able to tell B'Elanna what Tom's mission had been. He and the CO of the _Tyr_ , Damaris Khau, were supposed to meet with a Starfleet Intelligence operative that had infiltrated a ZFT cell nearly three months ago. Lieutenant Prieto had feared the cell's leader was onto her, and had sent an encoded message a week ago requesting extraction. It was a high risk mission, and it was imperative that the full extent of Starfleet's undercover mission in the ZFT not be discovered; that was why they had restricted Khau's team to just the two of them.

B'Elanna had been livid when she heard. "Two people? To extract a spy from a highly guarded terrorist base? That's just fucking brilliant!"

"B'Elanna, darling - language," Julia Paris said calmly from their sofa. "Miral just went to bed."

 _Your son is missing!_ B'Elanna wanted to scream. _Do you ever get upset about anything?_ She recognized that at least half of the rage she felt towards Julia was misdirected though, and managed to keep her verbal response to a brusque, "I need some air. I'm going outside."

One of the best things about living on a terraformed planet was that the weather was nearly always perfect. It was a cool, clear evening, and as B'Elanna stood in their small garden, she could see Mars' larger moon, Phobos, just above the horizon.

"She means well," she heard Owen's low voice say as he stepped onto the patio.

"I know," she said tersely.

Owen came up behind her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "It's how she deals with it - the uncertainty of having so many of the people she loves in the 'Fleet. She likes to control what she can."

"I've noticed," B'Elanna grumbled.

"Actually," Owen said quietly, "Some people even think I'm the more difficult one."

B'Elanna laughed a little as she rested her head on her father-in-law's chest. It was no secret to anyone that Tom and his father had a rocky relationship. Things were much better between them since _Voyager_ had returned from the Delta Quadrant, but Owen was still prone to thinking he knew what was good for his son better than Tom himself did, and Tom was still prone to resenting his father's attitude and interference. When B'Elanna first met the Admiral (as Tom still called him when he was in one of his snarkier moods), she had been fully prepared to dislike, or at the very least distrust, the man; given all the pain he'd once caused her husband.

But it turned out she hadn't disliked Owen Paris at all. Maybe it was because she wasn't his child, or maybe it was because he made an extra effort for the wife of the son he'd been estranged from for so long - but Owen had been exceedingly kind to her from the day they met. He'd also been impressed by her engineering skills and accomplishments on _Voyager_ \- after she'd accepted the position, Arhan told her it was Owen that had contacted him personally to recommend her. She had a tenuous relationship at best with her own father - John Torres was a doting grandfather to Miral when he visited, but B'Elanna found herself simply incapable of trusting him like she felt a daughter should a father. She couldn't rid herself of the notion that he might disappear again at a moment's notice. She just never expected that it would be Owen that would fill much of the hole John's absence had created.

She worried, sometimes, that Tom would become resentful of the relationship she and Owen had built over the years. Tom was always watchful and protective of his wife when John was around - B'Elanna tried to imagine how she'd feel if instead the two of them were friends, if they laughed together or went places without her. A couple of years ago, she asked Tom point blank if it ever felt like a betrayal, how well she got along with Owen.

He had laughed at her, but softly because of the baby sleeping on his chest. Miral had had a nasty respiratory virus at the time, and would only sleep if her father was holding her. "Betrayed? No, B'Elanna, I don't feel betrayed."

Annoyed that he wasn't taking her seriously, she had glared at him. "It doesn't bother you at all?"

His smile had turned a little sad then. "I didn't say that. But it doesn't bother me because it's _you_. It just bugs me a little... because it's not me."

They had talked a lot that night, quietly sharing old pains and new worries as their sick child rested peacefully for the first time in days. B'Elanna couldn't remember the last time they'd had a conversation like that. They had both been busy lately, between caring for Miral and their respective jobs. She wondered if she could have prevented all of this - maybe if she'd bugged him more to tell her what had been troubling him about his posting on the _Tyr_. Or if she'd been open with Tom after Arhan had left - told him how she was worried Starfleet was deliberately holding her back and she was considering resigning - would he still be missing now?

On the afternoon of the third day, B'Elanna was with Miral in the garden, as she peddled her little tricycle around the patio. "Momma, we go on the road now?"

"No, Miral, Momma wants to wait here for Grandpa to come back." Owen had been at HQ all day, doing what he could to help find his son.

"Momma, where is Daddy? Daddy takes me on the road! I want to go on the road!" The toddler was off her tricycle now, glaring at her mother. Miral was endlessly chatty, and sometimes dangerously inquisitive, but usually agreeable for a three year old. The tensions of the last few days were wearing on everyone, though.

"Miral!" she snapped. "I told you, he'll be back when he's back. Stop asking me!"

"B'Elanna."

 _Fantastic_ , B'Elanna thought, _Julia hears me the first fucking time I lose my temper_. A new thing for her to comment on later to Owen when she thought B'Elanna was out of earshot. But when she turned to her mother-in-law, the look on her face was not one of disapproval.

"Owen just called. There's news."


	4. Chapter 4

"She was right. The cell leader was onto her," Owen said as he stared down at his clasped hands.

"Prieto's not necessarily dead, though," B'Elanna insisted as she paced their living room. "Pictures can be faked. It could have been a hologram or something. Maybe it's just a bluff."

Owen looked at her then, and she thought she had never seen him look so old. "We know it's her, B'Elanna. They didn't send a picture."

B'Elanna sagged into the couch next to her father-in-law, the full realization of what he was telling her sinking in. "Where's Miral?" she said faintly. For the life of her, she couldn't remember where her daughter was. Had she left her out in the garden?

Owen put his hand over hers. "Julia took her to the park to ride her tricycle."

"Did they say anything about Tom or Khau in the message? Did they say what they wanted?"

"Information," he said grimly. "The message said that they want to know the names of the moles Starfleet has planted within their organization. They said if they don't get the intel from Tom and Khau directly, then we'd better send a list if we want them back."

"But do either of them even know anything?" she asked him, trying desperately to swallow the lump that was lodged in her throat.

"No," Owen said. "Intelligence has limited the names of the operatives to only a handful of people. I don't know them either."

"And they aren't going to turn over those names now," she said flatly.

"No."

B'Elanna stood again, filled with helpless despair and rage. She grabbed the nearest vase on the shelf behind them and threw it against the wall so it shattered. She was reaching for the shelf itself when she felt hands restrain her. "Let me go!" she snarled at Owen as she tore her arms free of him.

"Lieutenant!" Owen barked. "Settle down! This won't help anything!"

B'Elanna whipped around to face him, for the first time seeing him as the Starfleet officer that had intimidated her husband throughout his childhood. "Settle down? You basically just told me my husband is dead, and you want me to fucking settle down?" It took every ounce of will she had to not launch herself at him.

"B'Elanna!" Owen gripped her arms again. "B'Elanna," he said again, more gently. "This is not over, and Tom is not dead. You don't know everything yet."

"What else is there to know?" B'Elanna said in anguish, barely holding her tears in.

"They made a mistake. The ZFT. We know where they are."

* * *

The ZFT had been careful to hide the origin of the message they sent along with Prieto's body. It had been routed through a variety of underground and black market channels before arriving on Mars. But they hadn't been quite careful enough. There were traces of a rare mineral found contaminating Prieto's wounds. There was only one asteroid belt that this mineral was found on, and only one asteroid in the belt large enough for a ship to land on.

"There's another Defiant-class ship nearby that we're sending in," Owen told her, once she was calm enough to listen to him again. "Your friend's on it - Lieutenant Kim."

B'Elanna found herself laughing at the irony in spite of herself. Predictably, Harry had jumped right into the deep end of Starfleet as soon as possible after their return to the Alpha Quadrant. He had even cut his leave short by two months to take a posting he wanted. What wasn't so predictable was that it was a tactical position. Tom and B'Elanna had thought he was joking when he told them at dinner one night a few weeks before he left.

"Oh please, Harry - Tactical?" B'Elanna had scoffed. "You're an engineer. Maybe a science officer. But Security? They'll eat you alive."

"Now, now, Wife," Tom had pronounced, causing B'Elanna to raise an eyebrow. She could never decide if he was adorable or irritating when he was tipsy. "I'm sure our Young Mr. Kim will perform admirably at his new post."

"Thank you, Old Mr. Paris," Harry had replied, raising a glass.

"Fuck off, Harry," Tom said, grinning at him as they clinked their glasses.

After Harry had left for the evening and she was curled up against Tom in bed, praying Miral would sleep for a few more hours, she asked Tom if he really thought Harry's new posting was a good fit.

"God no," her husband murmured sleepily. "He's gonna get destroyed."

But they'd been wrong. Harry had (finally) been promoted to lieutenant j.g. upon their arrival in the Alpha Quadrant, but his performance on the _Olurun_ meant he'd been promoted to full lieutenant nearly three months ago - as fast as Starfleet protocol allowed, and finally catching up to Tom and B'Elanna in rank. And they both heard about it. Endlessly.

Now he was stationed at a Federation starbase near Andor, tied to a ship called the _Sun Tzu_. B'Elanna felt better just knowing Harry was on the team, despite her long ago skepticism that he could ever cut it at Tactical. _He'll get him out_ , she told herself over and over, _if for no other reason than he'll want to rub it in Tom's face that he's the one that saved the day._

Two days later, Owen got the news. Harry had come through.


	5. Chapter 5

B'Elanna rushed through the doors of Utopia Planitia's main medical facility, starting to talk before she had even reached the reception desk. "I was told my husband was being brought here - Lieutenant Tom Paris. Where is he?"

The Andorian at the desk twitched an antenna at her but didn't look up from his monitor. "What's the name again?"

"Paris!" she snapped. "Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris!" B'Elanna fought an urge to reach across the desk and throttle the man when he failed to do anything beyond continue to stare at his monitor. "Do you need me to spell it out?"

"B'Elanna!" She turned at the familiar voice, and almost cried in relief when she saw Harry Kim striding towards her, disheveled but intact.

"Harry." She ran to meet him, throwing a parting glare at the receptionist. "Where's Tom? Is he OK? Owen didn't know anything other than he was being brought here."

"The doctors are with him now," Harry said, giving her a quick hug. "The medics on the _Sun Tzu_ started care, but we were closer to the colony than we were to a ship with a full sickbay, so it seemed best to bring him and Commander Khau here to Mars."

"Harry," she said in frustration, "I don't care why you brought him here. I just want to know if he's OK!"

Her friend's brow creased in concern. "I don't really know."

"What the hell do you mean, you don't know?" she demanded. "You were on the rescue mission, weren't you?"

"Come on," was all he said in reply, as he put his arm around her shoulders. "Let's walk over to where he's being treated. I'll fill you as best I can."

Harry and his team from the _Sun Tzu_ had invaded the small terrorist outpost where Tom and Khau were being held, and discovered the two officers in the middle of being interrogated for intel on Starfleet's strategies to stop the ZFT. Khau herself had only minor injuries, but Tom was barely conscious when the rescuers arrived. Harry had him beamed to the small sickbay of the Defiant-class ship before they even had the camp locked down, and had been too focused on getting the vessel to safety to get an update on Tom's condition.

When they reached the treatment area, B'Elanna spotted a tall woman in a dirty, torn uniform with commander's pips pacing outside the door. _This must be the famous Damaris Khau_.

"You're B'Elanna Torres," Tom's CO said brusquely when B'Elanna and Harry approached.

"Yes," B'Elanna said. "Do you know…?"

"I know as much as you do," Khau interrupted. She threw herself into a nearby chair, arms crossed. She looked up at B'Elanna, her expression a little softer. "I'm sorry."

Tom had mentioned Khau to her a few weeks ago, when he'd first been assigned to the _Tyr_. He liked her, he said. He thought B'Elanna would like her, too - he wanted to have her over to their apartment for dinner. "She'd like everyone to think she's tough as nails. But really she's a big softie under it all." He had grinned at her. "Sound like anyone else you know?"

B'Elanna didn't like her much right now. Right now, she'd like to rip the woman's throat out. She was sorry? Khau had been in charge of the mission; they'd been captured, an officer killed, her husband in God knows what condition, and she was fucking _sorry_?

Whether it was a sixth sense borne of their years long friendship, or just the fact that he noticed her clenched fists, Harry saw an intervention was in order. He took B'Elanna gently by the shoulders and guided her away from where Tom's superior sat. "We got him out, B'Elanna - that's the important thing. He's where he needs to be."

"But, what if he…" B'Elanna cursed the fear she heard in her own voice.

"Hey," Harry said with false bravado, "We're talking about Tom Paris. The man has more lives than a cat." He enveloped her in a hug. "He's gonna be just fine." For years, Tom and B'Elanna had teased their younger friend for his undying optimism. But, right now, it felt like the only thing B'Elanna had to hold onto.

"Commander Khau? I have an update on your officer's condition."

"Tell me," B'Elanna said firmly as she strode towards the doctor. "I'm his wife."

* * *

 **A/N:** I swear I didn't deliberately make each of the first five chapters shorter than the last! I promise I won't be keeping you in suspense for much longer...


	6. Chapter 6

"Do you want me to go in with you?" Harry asked B'Elanna, apparently sensing her hesitance as she stood outside Tom's room.

"No, it's OK," she said, shaking her head. "It's probably better not to overwhelm him. And the doctor said he'll be fine. This isn't a big deal." _He was just tortured by vicious terrorists for five days. Not a big deal at all. Who are you trying to fool, Torres?_

Harry met her eyes. "He's the most resilient person I've ever met, B'Elanna. He'll be all right."

 _Right_ , she told herself as she entered the hospital room. _He'll be fine_. The doctor said most of his injuries were superficial and easily regenerated - exhaustion and dehydration were his worst issues. Plenty of rest, some physical therapy for a badly torn shoulder, and he'd be back to normal. They wanted to keep him for a day, make sure he met with a counselor, but they assured her he'd make a full physical recovery. As for the psychological trauma, B'Elanna reminded herself that he'd experienced far worse in the Delta Quadrant - Banea, Akritiri, Tarakis, even that damn shuttle. Tom had gotten through it all. He'd get over this, too.

When she entered the room, though, he wasn't in the bed. The only person she saw was a very pissed off looking nurse.

"Excuse me?" she asked, confused. She was sure the doctor told her to come here. "I was told my husband was in this room. Lieutenant Paris?"

The young man gave her a frustrated sigh. "Oh, you're in the right place. He's in there," he continued, nodding towards the closed bathroom. "Changing back into uniform."

"But I thought you were keeping him, at least overnight?"

"That was the plan," he replied, frowning. "Your husband has other ideas. He signed himself out against medical advice. And no, we can't stop him. These Starfleet types are all the same." He thrust a hypospray at her. "Take this. There are enough analgesics in here for the next forty-eight hours. I'll make him an appointment with the counselor and a recheck with the doctor for the day after tomorrow. Keep him in bed until then."

B'Elanna grabbed the nurse's arm as he tried to leave the room. "Wait a minute. You're just going to let him go? Is he going to be OK at home?"

The nurse gave her a sympathetic smile. "You're welcome to try to convince him to stay. I didn't have much luck, and the only way we can force it with non-life threatening injuries is question his mental competency. Nobody wants that." He pulled out of her grip and walked towards the door. "Let me know if you talk him out of being stupid."

B'Elanna paused in front of the bathroom door before knocking. How bad could it be, if Tom was giving the medical staff a hard time? Maybe she'd been worried over nothing. She rapped lightly on the door.

"Can you just give me a fucking minute?" The angry snarl startled her, and B'Elanna took an involuntary step back. It didn't even sound like Tom.

"Tom," she called out. "It's me."

The door slid open, and there he was - his face was gaunt and pale, in stark contrast to the dark shadows under his eyes. He also had a few days' worth of beard and a sonic shaver in his hand.

"Hey," she said softly. "What are you doing?"

His only response was to put the shaver down and step towards her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Neither of them made a noise for several moments, as B'Elanna closed her eyes and took comfort in the familiar scent of her husband. She soon became concerned by how much he was shaking, and gently broke free of his arms. "Tom," she said, "I mean it - what are you doing? You should be in bed. Stay here for tonight. Let them take care of you."

He studied her face with red rimmed eyes. "I just want to go home," he whispered. "Please just take me home."

She had been prepared for him to fight her, to come up with some ridiculous pig-headed argument as to why he shouldn't stay in the hospital. But this - the pleading, broken look on his face - she didn't know how to say no to this. "OK," she said, stroking his cheek. "Let's get you home."

Inexplicably, he insisted that he had to finish shaving before they left. B'Elanna sent Harry back to his ship and took the opportunity to let Owen and Julia know what was going on. Of course Julia disagreed with her decision to let him leave.

"B'Elanna, darling, are you sure that's a good idea?"

"He wants to come home," she said, finding herself grateful to Zahne for the first time. The irritating man had taught her a lot about faking patience when it was politically expedient. "The doctors say he's not in any danger, so that's what we're doing."

B'Elanna had to slow her pace to match Tom's when they walked to the hospital's transporter room. Thankfully, the staff arranged for them to materialize right in front of their apartment - Tom looked like he was ready to collapse any minute. B'Elanna still questioned the wisdom of letting him leave; but at the moment, it felt like all she could do was try to give him whatever he wanted.

When they entered their apartment, only Owen was visible, sitting on the couch reading a PADD. "Tom." He jumped up and called out to his wife. "Julia! They're back."

Within seconds, a tiny figure came flying out of the kitchen towards them. "Daddy!" Miral cried joyfully. "You're home!"

Tom knelt down to grab their daughter in a hug and picked her up with his good arm. "Tom, maybe you shouldn't…" B'Elanna started, but fell silent when she saw how tightly he clung to her. Seeming to sense her father's distress, Miral was uncharacteristically subdued as she rested her head on Tom's shoulder.

"Tom!" Julia said with obviously false cheer. "Thank goodness you're all right! Why don't I make you something? Do you want some soup? Or a sandwich, maybe? Whatever you like."

Tom had his face buried in Miral's hair. "I'm going upstairs," he muttered.

"But you should eat first, darling," Julia pressed, seemingly oblivious to her son's mood. "When's the last time you had a meal? B'Elanna, tell him to eat something."

B'Elanna tried to think of a polite way to tell Tom's mother to back the hell off when Owen saved her.

"Julia," Owen said quietly. "Let Tom decide what he needs for now." He put a hand lightly on Tom's back, gently guiding him towards the stairs. "I'm glad you're home, son."

"Thanks," was all Tom said, and he slowly climbed the stairs to the bedrooms, still carrying Miral.

B'Elanna started up the stairs to follow him when Julia's voice stopped her. "B'Elanna, he really should eat. Why don't you bring him something? And send Miral down here - he doesn't need a toddler pestering him right now."

B'Elanna took a deep breath, knowing all the tension and frustrations of the last several days were making it harder than normal to keep her temper in check. She gripped the banister. Hard. "The doctor said it was most important for him to get some sleep. If he wants something to eat, I'll bring it up later."

"And you'll bring Miral down like I asked?"

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth before continuing her way upstairs.

She found Tom sitting on the floor of their bedroom, with Miral in his lap "reading" a book to him. Tom's eyes were half closed, and he was slumped against the side of their bed. Clearly it _would_ be best for Tom if Miral went back downstairs. B'Elanna had to fight the temptation to let her stay just to spite her mother-in-law.

"Miral, sweetie, come here," B'Elanna called to her softly. "Daddy isn't feeling well, and he needs to get some rest. Why don't I take you back downstairs to Grandma and Grandpa?"

"OK," the little girl replied, and climbed off her father. B'Elanna gave silent thanks to Kahless and any other gods that might be listening for their daughter's generally easy-going personality. A tantruming child would be the last straw right now. Miral patted Tom on the cheek. "Feel better, Daddy."

Tom gave his daughter the first smile B'Elanna had seen from him since their reunion. "Thanks, Kitten. Maybe I'll read to you tomorrow."

"Ferdnan?"

"Sure, Kitten. Ferdinand."

His breathing was heavy, like he was still winded from carrying her up the stairs. B'Elanna needed to get him into bed. "Come on, Miral," she said, holding out her hand. "I'll be right back, Tom. Wait for me if you need help."

She passed Miral off to Julia at the bottom of stairs. "Did you ask him if he wanted something to eat?" Julia queried.

 _What is with this woman and food?_ B'Elanna thought in exasperation. "He said he was fine for now," she said. Her jaw would probably ache tomorrow from all the clenching. "I have to go back up to check on him." She turned away from Julia.

"Daddy did not say that," B'Elanna heard Miral say behind her. "Daddy said he's reading Ferdnan tomorrow."

Great, betrayed by her own daughter. B'Elanna felt like screaming. She'd never hear the end of this from Julia. Deciding to prioritize Tom and delay the inevitable confrontation, she continued up the stairs without acknowledging what Miral said.

As B'Elanna came back into their bedroom, she saw Tom had managed to move off the floor and was sitting on the edge of the bed. He'd gotten his uniform jacket off and had changed to sweatpants, but he was still in his regulation undershirt. He was just staring at an old t-shirt in his hands. "Hey," she said quietly, not wanting to startle him. Maybe a little gentle teasing would help. "Did you forget what to do next?"

He looked up then, and the defeat in his eyes made B'Elanna's heart break for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "My shoulder...I can't lift my arm enough…" He showed the t-shirt to her helplessly.

"That's OK," she reassured him. "I can help you." But she didn't have much more luck. Every time she tried to get the tight shirt off his injured arm, he hissed in pain and she couldn't take it. Finally, she climbed onto the bed behind him. "Fuck it," she muttered in frustration. "We'll just replicate you a new one," and she ripped the shirt down the middle. _Oh Tom_ , she thought as she saw the faint bruises and mostly healed welts that crossed his back. With a skill borne of long practice, she stuffed down the rage she felt towards the people that had done this to him, and tried to focus on caring for her spouse.

She crossed back over to face him, and pulled off the torn shirt. B'Elanna smiled. "Now don't go getting any funny ideas just because I'm ripping your clothes off. The only thing you're going to do in this bed right now is sleep." Her face fell when his mouth didn't even so much as twitch in response. She helped him get the t-shirt on, grateful for the looser material, and pulled back the blankets on the bed. "Come on. Get under the covers - your hands are like ice." _He's just tired. He just needs to rest._

Once he seemed settled, B'Elanna called out to the computer. "Turn off li…"

"Don't!" Tom interrupted, grabbing her leg. "Leave them on."

B'Elanna stroked his hair as she sat beside him on the bed, trying to soothe him. "Tom, you need to sleep. You're exhausted."

He took several shuddering breaths before he spoke again. "There weren't any lights. Where they kept me. No windows. Not even a crack under the door." He gripped her leg tighter. "When I first came to...I thought maybe I was blind."

B'Elanna could have kicked herself. Why had she let him leave the hospital? He was clearly in no condition to be home. He should be telling this to a counselor. She didn't know what to say to something like that.

"I thought I would never see you again," he continued. "And Miral...I thought…." Another shaky breath. She felt him trembling under the blankets.

"Your eyes are fine, Tom," she said. B'Elanna cursed inwardly. What an idiotic thing to say; as if he didn't know that already. She wished their positions were reversed. B'Elanna's job in their marriage was to be the realist, to call out bullshit and fight their family's battles. Tom was the one that lightened the mood, the one that was good at offering comfort. He was supposed to be talking her off the ledge - not the other way around.

"No," he said, "that's not what I meant." He looked at her and reached up to touch her face, as if to convince himself she was really here with him. "I thought, 'This is it'. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear them. What they did to Prieto… her screams. And I knew I was next." He was silent for several moments, just staring at her. "I promised I would never leave you. And that's what I was going to do. Leave Miral without a father. And you...I didn't want to leave you." He gripped the bedding tight in a fist, and pressed his face into the pillow.

B'Elanna kicked off her shoes and climbed under the covers, lying behind him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Computer, dim lights to twenty-five percent." She pulled him closer and murmured into his ear. "It's all right, _parmaqqay_. You're home now. Everything is going to be OK." She just prayed she was right.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** This chapter has some references to my pre-series story _Looking for Space_. You don't have to have read it to understand this, but if you'd like to hear my take on Caldik Prime that's where to look!

* * *

"Why don't you stay here? I can take Miral around on her tricycle."

"I'm fine, B'Elanna," Tom said, allowing just a touch of aggravation to seep through. "The doctor just essentially gave me a clean bill of health. You were there, remember?"

"She said you need to do a better job with your shoulder exercises, and she asked you three different times if you're getting enough sleep," his wife volleyed back at him. "How does that translate to a clean bill of health?"

"Fine," he said, his irritation growing. "Take her. I'll just sit here and wait for you." He dropped into the bench beside them, ignoring the sharp twinge in his shoulder as he crossed his arms tightly in front of him and refusing to meet her eyes.

"Tom," she said quietly, as Miral pulled on her arm. "I just don't want you to push yourself too hard. It hasn't even been a week. You need to give yourself time to recover."

He stared at the large pond that marked the centerpiece of Mars' main green space. Why was she being so fucking _nice_ all the time? His wife was a lot of things - smart, passionate, driven - but she wasn't _nice_. She had been treating him like a child since he'd come back - constantly checking on him, reminding him to eat, to sleep, to exercise his shoulder. He just wanted everything to go back to normal; he wanted B'Elanna to go back to normal, instead of this coddling nursemaid routine.

"OK," she said when he failed to respond. "We'll see you in a little bit. Come on, Miri - I'll race you!"

Tom watched his wife jog just behind his fiercely peddling daughter as they moved down the path away from him. _Shit,_ he thought, _yet another thing to apologize for_. He couldn't seem to help himself - everything she said to him lately was like nails on a chalkboard. It wasn't just B'Elanna - Miral's laugh was more like a screech, his mother's hovering had made him want to rip his hair out. He'd only been able to talk to Harry for ten minutes the other day before he had begged off, claiming he was tired even though he'd woken up only an hour earlier.

And the counselor he'd been assigned! Pathetic. He knew from counselors, between Caldik Prime and Auckland. This one was so wet behind the ears, it was like he'd just climbed out of the pond Tom now sat beside. Tom had easily deflected the Bajoran's amateurish inquires about his mental state, and completely ignored the man's prosaic lecture on "embracing his justifiable anger and depression." _Gee, thanks, buddy. I feel so much better now that I know it's OK to be pissed about being captured and tortured by asshole radicals. I'm cured._

After his first session, B'Elanna had let him rant freely for over fifteen minutes about the man's incompetence, (as well as a few unflattering comments on his appearance and suspected parentage), before suggesting he ask for a new counselor from the 'Fleet.

"God!" he'd snapped at her. "Do you always have to try to fucking fix everything?" And then he'd been consumed by a wave of guilt when he saw the hurt look on her face. That had been the first apology, but it wasn't going to be the last by a long shot. In an attempt to avoid another fight, he'd told her that he could take himself to his second session yesterday. Instead of meeting the counselor, though, he had sat on this very bench for an hour before returning home, making a resolution to himself that he'd stop being such an ass to his wife.

Clearly, his resolve wasn't that impressive.

A hand suddenly gripped his shoulder, and Tom nearly fell off the bench as his heart leapt into his throat.

His father rushed around the bench to face him. "It's just me, Tom," he said apologetically. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I thought you heard me - I called your name three times."

"I didn't," Tom said faintly as his heart rate slowed. He cleared his throat, and settled back into the bench as his father sat down beside him. "It's fine. I was just...thinking." Ironically, despite their lifelong adversarial relationship, Tom now found his father was the only person he could stand to be around these days.

 _Maybe it's because he doesn't feel the need to fill every silence_ , Tom thought as they sat together, watching the ducks swim on the pond. They weren't real, of course. Terraformed worlds were odd that way. Mars had been the first, and everything had been experimental. The biologists that helped design the colony determined that if people wanted a large grassy park, they needed to have pollinators. Easy enough - several species of bees were brought in. Bees that reproduced at an alarming rate. So songbirds were brought in, and spiders, and then larger birds… When it was suggested that a small number of foxes or badgers be introduced, and possibly some freshwater eels to deal with the burgeoning frog problem, the colony government put their collective foot down. So… artificial ducks, among other things. They were ingenious feats of engineering really, and cleverly programmed to aggressively avoid contact with small children, much to Miral's frustration.

"Is there any point in asking how you're doing?" his father said finally.

"As well as you'd expect, I guess."

"Not very well, then?"

"No," Tom said as he kept his eyes locked on the ducks. "Not very."

"Your mother and I are going back to Earth early tomorrow - she wants to visit with Moira on her birthday. We'd like to come over for dinner tonight, so we can see Miral; if that's all right with you and B'Elanna." Three days after Tom had returned home, his parents vacated the Torres-Paris guest room in favor of a hotel.

"Mom isn't still mad?" Tom asked, finally glancing over at Owen. Julia and B'Elanna hadn't clicked from day one, although his mother would never actually say so. (B'Elanna, on the other hand, felt more than comfortable sharing her frustrations with him). Add in the close quarters of their three bedroom apartment and the stress level due to his capture, and Tom thought they were fortunate the two women hadn't come to blows. Normally, he would have played the go-between, subtly redirecting both woman back to their respective corners. He'd done it with Julia and Kathleen for much of his childhood, after all, he was an old hand at it. But this week... he didn't seem to have the interest or energy.

His parents decampment was a direct result of B'Elanna's patience reaching its end - and that, frankly, had lasted well past its normal expiration date. That particular day, Tom had simply refused to leave their bedroom. He hadn't touched the food B'Elanna brought up for breakfast; he'd snapped at Miral to leave him alone when she'd come to the door, triggering her to start crying uncontrollably, and then his mother had come up at lunch time, asking him to come down.

He had ignored her, which made her get more and more insistent. Finally B'Elanna had come up to intervene, and things got...heated.

"He needs to get back into his normal routine! He can't just hide up here. You need to trust me, B'Elanna. I know it won't work." More knocking on the door. "Tom, come down. I've made some of your favorites. Macaroni and cheese!"

"Damn it, Julia!" Even Tom had cringed at his wife's tone, despite his deep mental fog. "You're not going to fix this with lollipops and pats on the head!"

Owen's voice brought Tom back to their bench at the park. "Your mother is at least pretending she isn't still mad," he said. "Which will have to do. You know I love B'Elanna, but…"

Tom felt his hackles rise. He thought Owen and B'Elanna were close. Did his father really think now was a good time to start pointing out his wife's shortcomings? But, to his surprise, a beat later his father began to chuckle.

"Could you have married someone any less compatible with your mother?" Owen was openly laughing now. "Lollipops and pats on the head!"

Tom couldn't help but grin. "At least she and Kathleen get along."

"That's even worse, as far your mother's concerned. She feels like it's two against one now." Owen was quiet a moment. "It's good to see you smiling again."

Tom didn't know how to respond to that. Should he apologize for not being more cheerful? Promise to make more of an effort at faking it? It was as if everyone thought he could control what he was feeling right now, like he could change his mood by flipping a switch if wanted. And where the hell were B'Elanna and Miral? He wanted to go...somewhere, anywhere that wasn't here.

"I'm sorry," his father said in the face of Tom's continued silence. "That you had to go through what you did. I know something about what you're feeling right now."

 _I know!_ Tom would have screamed, if only he had the energy. _I know the Cardassians held you for weeks, not days! I know that your injuries make mine look like a stubbed toe! I know I should just get over this!_ But all he could manage to do was shrug.

"This is the last thing I wanted," Owen continued. "This is why I didn't want you to go to the Academy."

Tom found enough energy to reply to that.

He stood up from the bench, rounding on his father. "What the hell are you talking about? Didn't want me to… My whole damn childhood, all you talked about was the fucking Academy!"

"Settle down, Thomas!" his father barked back at him, with a quick glance at a family walking past. "You're making a scene. Give me a chance to explain."

Tom glared at his father, panting in his anger. He ignored Owen's gesture for him to sit back down.

"Fine," his father said, calmer but returning his son's glare with interest. "Be stubborn. But you will listen to me." He looked down at his clasped hands. "Do you remember, the day you told me you'd been accepted? How I reacted?"

"Of course," Tom said bitterly. _How could I forget?_ During much of Tom's childhood, Owen seemed to simply assume his son would follow in his footsteps and join the 'Fleet. Tom had rebelled against this plan through much of his teenage years, but Owen's capture by the Cardassians had been the impetus he needed to finally acquiesce to his father's wishes. When he'd gotten his acceptance at the Academy, however, he ended up hurt and confused when the Admiral lashed out at him over the news. "I thought you would be proud - happy that I was doing what you wanted." _Boy, was I ever wrong._

"I would have been, if you'd come to me a couple of months earlier. But…" His father took a shuddering breath and was quiet for a long moment. Tom wondered if he had temporarily lost his father to long ago bad memories when Owen finally raised his head. "A big part of what got me through what happened, what kept me going - it was knowing that none of you children were in the 'Fleet. That none of you would ever have to face what I did."

"Oh," was all Tom could say to that. He sat back down on the bench, his anger draining away and leaving him even more exhausted than he'd been before. He dug a small hole with his shoe in the dirt beneath the bench. "It wasn't like that. What the ZFT did. They aren't the Cardassians. It wasn't that bad."

"Don't," Owen snapped at him. "Don't minimize what happened to you. It won't help - thinking you're not allowed to feel bad because someone else had it worse. Believe me, I know."

Tom wondered if there was a story there, wondered if it had anything to do with his former captain. He didn't know if he'd ever be brave enough to ask.

"You can get through it, though." Owen said, more gently now. "If you let yourself accept what happened. Accept that you feel guilty about Prieto, and even about Khau; but that you blame them too. Just deal with the feelings as they come - the unfairness of it all, the anger. You've been through worse in your life, Tom. You can get through this."

And with that, Owen hit on the fear that had plagued Tom since the moment he'd been reunited with B'Elanna in the hospital; when he realized that simply seeing his wife again hadn't brought him the relief or comfort he'd been waiting for. "I don't know if I can this time, Dad," Tom whispered.

"I almost resigned after the Cardassians," Owen replied, as if he hadn't heard what Tom said. "I didn't think I could go back into space after what happened. And I didn't, of course. That was the compromise - promoting me to Vice Admiral. The 'Fleet didn't want me to leave, but I couldn't command a ship again after that."

Tom stared at him in shock. He hadn't known any of this.

"But what you need to know," Owen said. "What I should have been telling you for years - is that you're better than me. I suspected you were from the beginning. That's why I pushed you so hard. And now, when I see what you've survived, the things that happened on _Voyager_ , even Caldik Prime. Lesser things have ruined some very good officers. And you're good, Tom. Better than good. The things I've heard from Katie, from Commander Khau. You can do this. You can get back out there. I know it."

 _But what if I don't want to go back?_ he desperately wanted to ask. But it felt like his father was giving him a gift, with what he had told him. He couldn't just throw it back in his face. As he opened his mouth to say… something, Tom heard his daughter calling.

"Grandpa!" Miral ran up the bench and threw herself at Owen with her typical enthusiasm.

"Hello, Granddaughter!" Owen said, smiling at the little girl. "Did you ride around the whole pond? I'm very impressed!"

"Don't be that impressed," B'Elanna said as she came up to the bench, carrying the tricycle. "I've been carrying her and the trike for the last ten minutes."

Tom stood and reached his uninjured arm towards his wife. "I can get that for you."

B'Elanna looked like she was about to scold him for not taking care of himself again, when her expression softened and she handed him the tricycle. "Thanks."

Tom listened as Owen told B'Elanna of their plans to come for dinner before leaving Mars, and his wife swearing she'd be on her best behavior for the occasion. He felt a small tug on his pant leg.

"Here, Daddy," Miral said, thrusting a slightly crushed flower at him. "I got this to make you happy."

Tom knelt down to his daughter's level, and took the flower with a gentle smile. "Thanks, Kitten. It's a good start."


	8. Chapter 8

B'Elanna stared at the same line of text that she'd been trying to read for the last fifteen minutes. It still didn't make any damn sense. Why couldn't Zahne just write coherently, instead of trying to impress them all with his ability to bury the simplest concepts in the most florid and opaque language he could dream up? She let loose an inarticulate yell as she hurled the PADD across her living room. It made a satisfying thunk against the wall, but almost immediately B'Elanna regretted her actions as she looked up the stairs towards where her daughter lay sleeping. She held her breath for several seconds, waiting for the tell-tale cry of Miral being startled awake. Nothing. _Phew_.

She glanced at the clock. 22:48. Tom was even later than he'd been last night. And the night before that.

Realizing work would be a complete shit show tomorrow if she didn't familiarize herself with Zahne's report, she rose from her favorite chair to retrieve the thrown PADD. Her CO had "graciously" allowed her to take nearly two weeks off when Tom was missing and right after his rescue, ("Oh. Yes, I suppose I see how what's going on with your husband would make it difficult for you to concentrate. You'll be able to do _some_ work from home, though, won't you?"), but that much needed break had ended nearly a month ago, and when she returned she realized nothing about her job had changed for the better. In fact, as she watched one of her closest friends in the department take an engineering position on a science vessel, and another start looking for a job in industry, it was clear things were actually getting worse.

And trying to read this incomprehensible load of targ shit that was claiming to be an "Evaluation of Department Dynamics and Perceptions" wasn't helping anything. What _would_ have helped was if her damn husband had come home on time like he'd promised. Instead, she was just now getting to the report - she first had to pick up her daughter from childcare, _then_ fix their thrice blasted replicator again, _then_ feed her increasingly angry and hungry child dinner, _then_ help her satiated but now overtired daughter with her "homework," (she was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to simply replicate the "One Hundred Small Items from Your Home!" but, well... screw that. Why does a three year old have homework anyway?), and _then_ , finally, deal with one of the most epic bedtime tantrums of Miral's short life. And that was saying something - Miral may have been a far easier toddler than B'Elanna had once feared she'd be, but when she finally did reach the end of her rope… well, she wasn't a quarter Klingon for nothing, and the frequency of her outbursts had escalated recently. She'd tried comming Tom three different times, asking when he'd be home to help her out, but all she'd gotten was a brusque text-only reply of _Later_.

 _Too, know that I hear and acknowledge certain team members that have expressed varying levels of disquietude concerning my; in my role as supervisor of the department as well as overseer, both initial and final, of engine schematics; capability, aptitude, and proficiency in fulfilling my responsibilities and duties in an efficient and effectual manner…_

"Oh, for fuck's sake." And the PADD made its way across the room again. This time she aimed it precisely at a couch pillow to ensure a quiet landing. She wasn't taking any more chances on making her night worse than it already was. She also couldn't read another word of Zahne's drivel. She'd bullshitted her way through meetings before, she could do it again. Frankly, Zahne would be lucky if any of the staff made it through that dreck. But even though she was most definitely not alone in her distaste for their new CO, it didn't create a sense of solidarity with her fellow disgruntled officers. Instead, the widespread loathing of Zahne only made her feel more isolated - the sharp uptick in transfer requests made it feel like she was watching rats leaving a sinking ship, and she knew she wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

Because how could she resign right now? At first, it was that she hadn't wanted to disturb her husband's tentative recovery. Tom had really seemed to be trying after that conversation with his father. He had requested a new counselor as she had suggested, and had attended all the scheduled sessions. With the counselor's support, he'd asked that he return to his previous assignment of flight instructor and test pilot. He had seemed energized by his work with the young students - laughing more, being playful again with her and Miral. There had been some lingering issues - nights he hadn't slept well, and a resurgence of his claustrophobia, among other things - but even that had been slowly improving. She figured the last thing he had needed was more upheaval in his life; telling him she wanted to resign her commission and leave Mars would certainly qualify as disruptive.

Now she couldn't tell him because they were barely speaking to one another. This was because ten days ago, he had received an update in his assignment from HQ. They wanted him back on the _Tyr_.

The evening Tom brought home the news, Miral had been a particularly enthusiastic eater and B'Elanna had had her in the bath, trying to scrub a very sticky peanut sauce out of her hair. (No sonic showers for this kid. The epic battle that would result if B'Elanna even suggested such a travesty was not worth it). She heard Tom come through the front door, and called out to him. "We're in here! Your daughter is a complete disaster!" Miral joined in with her own entreaties for Daddy to join them.

Their calls were met with silence.

B'Elanna shrugged at her daughter, a smile on her face to hide her concern, and quickly finished up the bath. She wished she could go check on him alone, but now that Miral knew her father was home there would be no stopping her from going to see him. Once the little girl was dried and dressed and smelling of strawberries, they left the bathroom to find Tom sitting on their patio in the growing darkness, an open bottle of wine on the table next to him. Even in the declining evening light, B'Elanna could identify the distinctive bottle. It was one that Janeway had sent them for their last anniversary - a Chateau Picard bordeaux from the year they were married. They'd been saving it for a special occasion. At least that's what B'Elanna had thought.

She slid open the door to the outside, and Miral bounced up to her father. "Hi Daddy!"

"Hi, Kitten." He put down the glass in his hand and picked her up. "It's too cold out here for you in your pajamas. And it's bedtime. Go on up with Mommy."

"No!" the little girl said imperiously. "Daddy read me Ferdnan."

"Not tonight, Miral. Go to bed with your mother."

"No!" The volume was only increasing.

"Miral!" Tom barked, in an angry tone his wife had never heard him use before with their daughter. B'Elanna noted the tension in his shoulders and decided to intervene. The sooner she could get Miral in bed, the sooner she could find out what the hell was the matter.

"Hey, Sweetie," B'Elanna interrupted, picking up her now red-faced daughter. "Daddy's right. It's too cold out here. Say goodnight." She ignored the fact that Miral was kicking hard into her side, crying in anger over being denied her favorite book and favorite bedtime reader, and hauled her off to bed.

Likely feeding off her mother's agitation, it took no less than four books (including an extra reading of the much loved Ferdinand) and B'Elanna muddling her way through an old Klingon lullabye before Miral relaxed enough to fall asleep. B'Elanna grabbed a sweater, and made her way back onto the patio, where the level of wine in the bottle had noticeably fallen.

"Is the replicator broken again?" she asked, surreptitiously picking up the bottle and eyeing the contents, or lack thereof.

"What are you talking about?" Tom responded, his tone a mix of irritation and confusion.

"What's wrong with synthehol?" She kept hold of the wine, moving it behind her back as she came around the chair to face him.

He kept his gaze directed at the Martian landscape. "Guess it's just not a synthehol kind of night."

"What's going on?" she asked without further preamble. It was clear something was wrong, and even more clear that he wasn't going to volunteer anything. Tom handed her a PADD silently.

B'Elanna skimmed the memo quickly. _This can't be possible_ , she thought, outraged. She nearly slammed the wine bottle down onto the low wall that separated the patio from the rest of their garden, stopping just short of shattering it on the stones. She started to pace. _He's only been back on duty for two weeks!_ "They're sending you back to the _Tyr_? Already?" she asked, half hoping that she'd misread the PADD.

Tom continued to stare into the night sky before tossing back the wine left in his glass. "Yup." He reached to the table next to him for more wine. B'Elanna heard him mutter a low curse when he saw she had moved the bottle. He stood to refill his glass.

"This is ridiculous!" she fumed. As she continued to pace, she internally calculated how many glasses the missing wine equaled. _Deal with one issue at a time, Torres._ "They can't just send you out there again! Did they even talk to you first? What did your counselor say?"

"It doesn't matter what he said. The decision's been made." Another swallow of wine. "If I want to stay in Starfleet, they want me 'where I'm most needed.' It's the _Tyr_ or give up my commission." He gave her sidelong glance.

"Goddamn bureaucrats!" she growled. "It's not their necks on the line. Who cares about the people in the field as long as they protect their precious assets." She was a long way from forgiving those in power for how they handled Tom's capture - from where she sat, they'd all been more fixated on sheltering their spy network than getting her husband to safety. If Harry had even been a day later… _No. You're not going to think about that. He's home and he's fine now. There has to be a way to keep him off the_ Tyr _._

B'Elanna looked at the memo again. She would find a way to fix this. "You need to go to this Admiral Ramos and tell her you need more time planetside. Tell her you're not ready. "

"You don't think I'm ready?" he asked, his tone odd and unreadable.

"You're not," she said matter-of-factly. No point in pretending otherwise. "You nearly had a panic attack because of a crowded 'lift last week."

"Panic attack? I think that's exaggerating some, don't you?"

His expression was closed off and dark, arms tightly crossed in front of his chest. She approached him and touched his arm; then was taken aback when he immediately pulled away from her. B'Elanna let her hand fall back to her side, stung by the rejection. "OK, maybe not a panic attack, but...be honest, Tom. You're still not yourself."

He turned on her then, his face cold. "You're the one who's not herself. All you do is try to control me lately." His voice took on a mocking tone. "Go get some sleep, Tom. You should eat something, Tom. You can't go into space, Tom. God, B'Elanna, I can think for my fucking self!"

"I know you can," she said slowly, unsure where all this hostility was coming from. "I'm not trying to control you. I thought you were the one that didn't feel ready. I thought…" How had this conversation gone so wrong? "It's OK to be scared about going back, after what happened to you."

"Maybe you're the one who's scared about me going back." Tom snarled at her. He started to move away from her, to walk into the back half of the garden.

She grabbed his arm then, refusing to let go when he tried to pull away again. She was doing her best, damn it. Why couldn't he see that she was just trying to help him? "Of course I'm scared! So fucking what? I thought we were never going to see you again. Is it so wrong that I'd prefer my husband not go back into the situation that nearly got him killed?" She took a deep breath. She was the one that had said it, after all - Tom still wasn't himself. She needed to be the grown-up here; get control of the discussion and move it in the right direction. "I'm not saying you should never go back to the _Tyr_. I'm just saying that maybe you should take a little more time. Make sure you're ready."

"I am ready," he barked. "And I'm sure - even if you don't think I can do it." He ripped his arm away from her and moved again towards the back gate of the garden.

"Tom!" she yelled at his retreating back. "We have to deal with this! You can't just walk away from me!"

"Watch me!" he shouted back, letting the gate door slam. The neighbor's dog started to bark, and was soon accompanied by the sound of Miral crying. _Shit._

After getting Miral back to sleep, B'Elanna had stayed up waiting for him. They clearly need to talk about this more. Apparently Tom felt like he had something prove, but B'Elanna wasn't going to let his pride make him do something stupid. Exhausted and frustrated, she had finally given up just after midnight. The next morning she had found him asleep on the couch, and when he had awakened he'd been hungover and apologetic. But he still hadn't been willing to talk to her - just grabbed coffee from the replicator and told her he was going to be late.

Things had only gone downhill from there. The _Tyr_ was on local patrol duty at the moment - ten hour shifts before returning to Mars each night. Tom should easily have been able to make it home by 20:00 - time enough to read to his daughter every night, as he had once claimed he wanted. Instead, in the week since he'd been back in space, he'd only made it home for her bedtime once.

The first night, she'd nearly lost her mind with worry when he was over two hours late and hadn't answered any of her comms. When he had finally stumbled in, he had been confused at her anger. Khau just wanted to celebrate the crew being back together, he told her. What was the big deal? Someone would have contacted her if there had been a problem. The next night he'd come home in time to tuck Miral in, but afterwards he'd been sullen and uncommunicative, watching old episodes of Captain Proton on his PADD while he drank steadily from a bottle he'd brought home with him. Frustrated with her attempts at conversation being repeatedly rebuffed, she'd told him coldly before going to bed (alone) that if this was how things were going to be, he might as well go drink at a bar with Khau.

He'd taken her at her word. Tom hadn't seen Miral in days, other than a brief kiss in the morning. He'd barely said a dozen words to his wife, and every time she'd seen him he was drunk or hungover. She thought back to when she was first pregnant with Miral, how Tom had promised he would never leave her. Physically he was still here, but B'Elanna didn't know how much longer she could tolerate the distance and walls he had erected between them. Is this what had happened to her parents? Had John retreated farther and farther away from her mother until she couldn't take it anymore? She remembered countless fights about her father's late nights at work, or socializing with friends, before he had finally packed up and left. B'Elanna didn't want to turn into the scold and harridan her mother had been, but was what she was doing any better? At least the elder Miral had fought for her marriage. B'Elanna's seemed to just be slipping away as she stood helplessly by.

If they'd been on _Voyager_ , at least he would have been with Harry. The younger man would have never let Tom fall into too deep a hole before pulling him out again, Harry's determined optimism never allowing him to give up on his friends. But Harry was back on the _Sun Tzu_ in a whole other system, and Tom was spending his evenings with Damaris fucking Khau.

B'Elanna had seen the woman only once after that night in the hospital. She'd come to check on Tom a few days after their rescue - Khau hadn't done much more than grunt at B'Elanna before she'd joined Tom in the garden where they had spoken quietly for nearly an hour. And now Tom was drinking with her every night. What did they talk about? Why was it that Tom could confide in her, while leaving his wife, the woman he supposedly loved, in the dark? She thought about how he'd described her once - _tough as nails, a big softie underneath_ \- the admiration had been obvious.

This was it. A line had been drawn in the sand and she couldn't just sit by anymore - be a spectator in her own marriage. She wasn't going to allow him to disrespect her anymore, and neglect their child. And if that meant B'Elanna had to let her Klingon half show a little bit more than usual, so be it. Her daughter deserved better, and frankly, so did she.

B'Elanna looked up as the door opened and Tom stumbled through it. "Oh," he said, rubbing his eyes. "You're still awake."

Her fists clenched as she steeled herself to finally confront him. "And you're drunk again."

He rolled his eyes as he moved away from her and towards the stairs. "Give it a rest, B'Elanna," he slurred. "Don't you have anything else to worry about besides how much I drink every night?"

She got up then, and crossed to block his path to the stairs. "I do, as a matter of a fact," she responded. "I have a meeting tomorrow I have to prepare for, and you were supposed to come home early to help with Miral."

He blew out a short breath of air. B'Elanna turned her face at the smell of whiskey. "Sorry," he said, adopting his trademark lopsided grin. One that, at the moment, had completely lost its charm. "Totally forgot. I'm off tomorrow. I'll take care of her in the morning so you can prep then." He tried to move around her to the stairs, his face hardening again when she didn't get out of his way. "For God's sake, B'Elanna, I'm tired. Can you wait to yell at me more until after I get some sleep?"

The easy thing to do, B'Elanna considered, would be to move out of his way. Let him go sleep it off...again. Pretend he'd wake up and be himself...again. But the easy way wasn't working. _And really, when has anything ever been easy for you, Torres?_ It was time take a page from her mother's book, consequences be damned. Because she sure as hell didn't want to live like this anymore.

"No," she said firmly. "This conversation isn't waiting anymore. Because I'm tired, too. Tired of waiting for you to come home every night. Tired of hearing you say sorry over and over again. Tired of having you reek of alcohol. We're doing this now, Tom, or we're not doing it at all."

That got his attention. "What the hell does that mean? Is it supposed to be a threat?" he demanded.

B'Elanna stepped onto the second stair so she could meet him eye to eye. "It's supposed to be a wake-up call. You think you're being a good father right now? Or husband? Do you really think the drinking isn't going to catch up with you at some point? Or have you forgotten about Caldik Prime?" _No turning back now…_

She'd rarely seen his expression so angry. His jaw clenched as he let a short huff of air through his nose. "Fuck you, B'Elanna." He turned away from her and stalked toward the front door.

"Where do you think you're going?" she growled, coming up behind him and yanking on his shoulder to turn him back to her.

"Out," he barked, "Before I say something I regret."

She grabbed him by his upper arms to stop him, thankful that his drunkenness and her Klingon strength gave her a clear advantage. She was not done. They were getting the air cleared tonight. "Running back to Khau's side again?" She swallowed before she found the courage to make her next accusation. "Or is it her bed?"

He let out a short bark of laughter. "Oh my God. Are you really still so fucking insecure that you…? I'm not _cheating_ on you! If you even knew how stupid the idea was - me sleeping with Khau!" He broke away from her again, but circled back into their apartment instead of towards the door. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but I've been through some pretty terrible shit lately. I need to blow off some steam."

"Blowing off steam is a session with _bat'leths_ , or blowing things up on a holodeck!" she hissed at him, still conscious of Miral sleeping upstairs. "It's not hiding in a bottle every night with your CO. Your _female_ CO."

He pressed his hands to his forehead. "I can't believe this. You really think I'm sleeping around? That I'd do something like that to you?"

She bit the inside of her cheek. She would _not_ cry in front of him. "I don't know what to think anymore. You're never here! You won't talk to me! I don't even know who you are right now!"

"Well that's just great!" he shouted back, throwing his arms in the air. "It good to know how little faith you have in me! God, B'Elanna - if you think I'd do something like that, why did you even marry me?"

"That's-" her response was interrupted by an anguished cry from upstairs. "Fantastic. You woke her up," she said, turning away from him as she started to lose the battle with her tears.

"I'll go," he muttered and started to push past her to the stairs.

She shoved him back again so that he stumbled. "No," she snapped. "You're drunk. You're not going anywhere near her." She ran up the stairs before he could say anything else.

B'Elanna had to pause outside of Miral's room to take several deep breaths before she felt it was safe to enter. The last thing her crying child needed was to see her mother in such a heightened state of emotion. Feeling her heart rate start to slow, she slipped into the room and called softly to her daugher. Singing a quiet song B'Elanna's human grandmother once taught her served to calm them both as they lay together on the bed.

 _What have I done?_ she thought as she clutched her now sleeping daughter to her chest. _Accusing him of cheating on me? Throwing his worst mistake in his face?_ _How could I have brought up Caldik Prime?_ Even her mother had not been so cruel during her many blow ups at her husband. B'Elanna realized this might be it - the moment she had always feared, the one when she drove Tom away with her uncontrollable anger. She filled with self-loathing. It was one thing for her to end her marriage, but what if she'd deprived Miral of her father as well? She felt another round of tears well up inside of her, but she didn't have any fight left. She let the sobs come as she buried her face in her daughter's hair.

She woke with a start some time later, having dozed off still wrapped around Miral. She crept out of the little girl's room as she scrubbed dried tears off her face. Seeing her own bedroom open and empty, B'Elanna bit her lip and returned back downstairs.

With a small seed of fear growing deep inside her, she checked for him on the couch, in the kitchen, out in the garden. Tom was nowhere to be found. As her heart started to beat frantically in her chest, she saw the door to their guest room cracked open.

There he was, passed out cold on the bed. He hadn't even taken off his boots. She pulled them off and covered him with the blanket folded at the foot of the bed. He didn't so much as twitch an eyelid.

 _What is wrong with me?_ she thought, as she watched him sleep. Tom was not her father. He would never cheat on her and he was not leaving. Her husband could be many things - childish, snide, defensive - but one thing she knew she could always count on was his loyalty. He might tear down their marriage brick by brick with his drinking and the way he hid from his problems, but he'd be there until the bitter end. She allowed herself to breath again as she gently touched his hair, confirming he was really here with them.

She thought of the night before he was supposed to report back to the _Tyr_. It was the last night she'd seen him sober, and it had been terrible. He'd barely slept, having awakened more than once panicky and sweating. He had tried multiple times to leave their bedroom, telling her he didn't want to keep her up. But she had pulled him to her time and again, hoping her presence would help to soothe him. In the end, she must have slept through his final nightmare, because when she had woken up the next morning, he was gone. Nothing but a note saying he'd be back that night, once the _Tyr_ returned to Mars.

Every night since, he'd slept like a baby. Soused, but peaceful. As hurt and angry as she was, B'Elanna couldn't help but feel like she'd failed him. She wanted so badly for him to be OK - for him to be the strong one, the supportive one again - that she'd fooled herself into believing everything was fine. He was clearly still in so much pain, and she didn't know how to change that for him. And, she was beginning to realize, she would never be able to. Tom had to want to fix it. He needed to make the decision to make a change. But maybe what she could do was give him the kick in the ass he needed.

She went back out to the living room and opened their comm console. First she sent a quick message to Zahne, informing him she was taking a leave of absence, effective immediately. It's not like she gave a crap about any consequences the memo might cause. ( _And I can skip that damn meeting. Harry would be so proud of me for finding the silver lining._ ) Then she checked the local time in California. She had a call to make.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** This chapter contains references to the season 7 episode _Friendship One_.

* * *

A shrill alarm jerked Tom out of a deep, dreamless oblivion. He sat up quickly, but was slow to recall his location, much less identify the source of the noise. _Red alert? Where are we? Is it the Borg? The Hirogen?_

When a sudden pain stabbed him behind the eyes and his stomach roiled with nausea, he remembered that he wasn't on _Voyager_ anymore, and hadn't been for years. _That's sunlight streaming through the window_ , his creaky brain realized. _I'm on a planet. Mars. I'm on Mars. With B'Elanna and Miral and…_ The events of last night slowly came into focus. _Shit._

And it wasn't a red alert, it was their apartment's comm system. Someone was trying to call them. "B'Elanna?" he called out, cringing at the volume of his own voice. "Can you get that?"

No response.

 _OK_ , he thought, as he pushed himself to standing. _Guess she's still pissed_. As he rubbed his pounding head, he had to admit she had every reason to be. He'd been a complete jerk to her lately - there were no two ways about it. If only he could figure out how to stop.

He let out a massive yawn and wished whoever was calling would give up so he could go hunt down an analgesic and a few liters of water. He sat on one of their kitchen bar stools and flipped open the comm console. "Yeah?" he grunted when the channel opened, rubbing his eyes.

"Man, little brother," a familiar voice said in disdain. "You look like the wrong end of a targ."

"Hey Kath," he said, as he moved on to massaging his temples. "Nice to see you, too."

"Take two cc's of inoxafen, and lots of fluids," she said, frowning in disapproval.

"I know, Dr. Paris. I'm field medic certified, remember?" he snarked back at her. "I think I can handle a simple hangover."

"I'm sure you can," she said, matching his tone. "Sounds like you've had loads of practice lately."

"Did you call for a reason?" he said, glaring at his sister's face on the monitor. "Or did you just feel the need to act superior today?" Maybe if he was enough of a dick to her, she'd hang up and he could go lie down again.

"I'm shocked you answered, actually," she said, ignoring his comment. "You've been avoiding me."

He looked away at that. She was right, as always. She'd tried to call him half a dozen times since his capture, sent him nearly as many letters. He hadn't even read the last one. "I'm not avoiding you," he said to his hands. "I've just been busy."

"Uh-huh," she said, in that annoying tone she always used when she could see right through his lies and excuses. "Busy. I'm sure."

Growing up, Kathleen was the family member Tom had been closest to. Seven years older, she'd been his default babysitter when he was a child, and frequently Tom's main source of comfort when he had a skinned knee or a bad day at school. As he had gotten older, and chafed more against his father's expectations, she was the one that tried to help him find his own path on the well-plotted road his father had laid out for him.

And then Caldik Prime happened. By the time he agreed to go to the Badlands with Janeway, he hadn't spoken to anyone in his family for over two years.

He and Kathleen had exchanged letters, of course, on his later years on _Voyager_ , but they were light, humorous little things - catching each other up on their day to day lives, reminding each other of funny incidents from childhood. He thought, perhaps, the closeness they had shared when they were younger was long gone. But when he'd disembarked _Voyager_ for the last time and reunited with the big sister he hadn't seen in over ten years, she'd grabbed onto him like he was a lifeline, tears streaming down her face before he had even reached her. As soon as they broke apart, she laid into him.

"I am so mad at you!" she exclaimed fiercely, punching him in the arm. "Do you know how much I've worried about you for the last decade, you son of a bitch?!"

He gave her a cheeky grin and leaned down to her ear. "You shouldn't stay stuff like that about Mom," he whispered, since Julia was only a few meters away.

She hugged him again. "God, I missed you," she muttered, as she cried into his shoulder.

"Look, I'm sorry, OK?" he said now, in as apologetic a tone as he could muster while still battling his rebellious stomach. "Things have been kind of rough lately, and I haven't felt much like talking."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out," she said dryly. "But that's not why I'm calling. It's about B'Elanna."

"B'Elanna?" he said, squinting at her. "I don't think she's here." He looked vaguely around their apartment. "I just got up, though. I'm not sure."

"Just got up?" she said in disbelief. "Isn't is nearly noon there?" She shook her head. "Never mind. You're making it abundantly clear that she's doing the right thing. Anyway, I _know_ she's not there, that's why I'm calling."

He went back to rubbing his face. "You've lost me. As you have already surmised, I had a very long night. Start again, and speak slowly."

"Tom," she said, her voice filling with compassion now. "B'Elanna left. She took Miral and they're on their way here to stay with me. She's not sure when she's going back."

* * *

He hadn't been particularly kind to Kathleen once he'd finally processed what she was trying to tell to him. She'd taken it all in stride, though; told him to not kill the messenger, and maybe he should take some time to consider who was really to blame for his wife leaving without so much as a note. After she'd hung up on him, he'd torn through their apartment and seen how much was missing - much of B'Elanna's civvies (though none of her uniforms), Miral's favorite toys and stuffed animals, and of course, their well-worn paper copy of _Ferdinand the Bull_. He then slumped onto the floor of his daughter's bedroom, head still throbbing and clutching Miral's little nightgown in his hands, wondering how he'd managed to muck this all up so badly.

At the moment, the main thing he was holding onto was the fact that his sister said B'Elanna didn't know _when_ she was coming back. Not _if_. She didn't say _if_.

It was ridiculous that his entire life hung on one word choice.

Part of him thought he should just jump on the next Earthbound shuttle, go to his sister's house and… what? Yell at B'Elanna for taking Miral away without so much as a good-bye? On the surface it might seem like it was just her old pattern of running away, but could he blame her, really? Getting Miral away from her self-destructing father was probably the best thing B'Elanna could have done. Besides, every time his wife had tried to talk to him lately, he'd bitten her head off - accused her of nagging, or hovering, or being controlling. No wonder she had tasked his sister with telling him she'd left.

It was all so frustrating. It's not like he wanted to be such an asshole. Every morning this week he had woken up, with a mouth full of cotton and his head feeling like it was made of lead, promising himself that today he'd be better. He'd be kinder to B'Elanna. He'd come home on time and play with his daughter. He'd stick to synthehol.

And then he'd step onto the _Tyr_ and his blood pressure would rise. He'd look out the viewscreen at the stars and feel like they were going to swallow him whole. At the end of their patrol shift, when he finally stepped off the small ship, it was as if he hadn't taken a full breath in ten hours. The alcohol was the only thing that made him feel like he wasn't going to jump right out of his skin. It was as if his whole life was an out of control shuttle. He knew where he wanted it to go, he made all the right calculations, he inputted all the right commands; but it still crashed into an asteroid every single time.

The entire time he'd been held by the ZFT, all he had thought about was getting back to his wife and child - when he had panicked alone in the dark, bloodying his fingers as he desperately tried to find a way out; when he had listened to Prieto's screams as they tore her flesh away from her body; when they'd pummeled him with fists and boots and rifle butts, demanding information he didn't have. As long as he held onto consciousness, he had kept telling himself he wouldn't let the ZFT take him away from his family.

But apparently, they didn't need to. He was going to shove them out the nearest airlock all by his lonesome.

Was it just inevitable that he ruin every good thing in his life? Were those years on _Voyager_ just a lie, or some kind of fluke? Maybe he _was_ still that fuck up from Caldik Prime. Maybe B'Elanna and Miral would be better off without him in their lives. Even if he managed to get his shit together this time, who's to say he wouldn't hurt them again, maybe worse, down the line?

He balled up Miral's nightgown and shot it towards the hamper by the door. It went wide, though, and hit a nearby shelf instead, knocking loose one of its inhabitants. Tom jumped up and grabbed the object before it hit the floor, his throbbing skull immediately regretting the sudden movement.

He was glad he had caught it, though. Miral would have been crushed if it had broken, and he wasn't sure B'Elanna would take it much better. It was a ship in a bottle, a near perfect replica of Voyager contained within the glass; and it had once belonged to Joe Carey.

They'd lost many good people during their seven years on Voyager - Durst, Hogan, Jetal, among others. But something about Joe's death had been particularly heartbreaking. Maybe because they had gotten home so soon after it happened. Or because his wife and kids thought they'd gotten him back, just to have him ripped away again. Or maybe because it had been so utterly senseless - Janeway was always going to find a way to help the Uxali, if only they'd given her more time.

Tom had finished the model for him, knowing that if even a few details of the mission had been different - B'Elanna had come instead of Joe, Tom hadn't had medical training - it was very likely that he would have been the one the aliens' leader killed. He had wanted to save the model for Joe's kids - a small token to help them remember their father.

As Joe's immediate superior, B'Elanna was the one that brought it to his wife a few weeks after they'd returned to the Alpha Quadrant. While Saoirse had been happy to meet B'Elanna and they sat together sharing stories about Joe for over an hour, she didn't want the model. She didn't even want to show it to her boys, not wanting them to have another reminder of the ship that took their father away. She encouraged B'Elanna to keep it, saying Joe would have wanted her to.

So B'Elanna brought it back to their temporary housing, and it moved with them to an apartment near his parents' house in San Francisco, and then later here to Mars. About a year ago, Miral had discovered it and had become fascinated. She loved having a prop to go with the many (highly edited) stories her parents would tell her about their years on _Voyager_.

He turned the little model in his hands. _Voyager_. Everything was so much simpler then. Sure, their lives were in constant danger - but that's what made it easy. There was no time to dwell on your choices and obsess over the possible consequences - you just had to act, or probably wind up dead.

But that meant he had a choice now, didn't it? One that Joe didn't get. He and Joe hadn't been close friends, but he knew him well enough to believe Joe would have chosen his family over anything else. Tom knew in his heart that it was the choice he wanted to make, too. He just had to be brave enough to make it.


	10. Chapter 10

B'Elanna sat on the balcony of her sister-in-law's townhouse and looked out at the Pacific Ocean, trying to figure out what the hell she was going to do with her life. In an unexpected turn of events, Zahne hadn't issued a call for her head after she messaged him about taking a leave of absence. Instead, she'd gotten a surprisingly reasonable response saying that he understood she had endured many difficulties lately, and if she needed a week or two, he would allow it. B'Elanna figured he either finally realized how much of the actual work she did in the department, or he was panicking about the number of transfer requests he was getting. Either way, it meant she still had no idea what she should do next - with her job or her marriage.

When B'Elanna had left Mars, initially her thought was to give Tom some space - maybe it would be the push he needed to change his behavior and make him realize what he seemed to be throwing away without a second thought. Apparently her gesture had worked, at least on some level. He'd called twice since she and Miral had arrived in Coronado, asking to speak with her.

B'Elanna had refused. She hadn't let him talk to Miral, either, which made even her sympathetic sister-in-law regard her with concern. But as B'Elanna had sat on that shuttle back to Earth, fielding question after question from her daughter, ( _Why isn't Daddy coming? When is Daddy going to meet us?_ ) she had come to a few realizations of her own. She'd been really _trying_ \- staying patient with his mood swings, taking on the bulk of Miral's care, even keeping quiet about her crappy job just so she wouldn't have to saddle him with another problem. But she was sick and tired of doing all the work in their marriage; fed up with waiting for him to snap out of it, for him to reach out to her instead of just pushing her away. By the time the time she arrived at the shuttle port, burdened as she was with two cases of luggage and an hungry, overtired child, she wished Tom was there just so she could break his nose.

Their years on _Voyager_ had been such a strange, high pressure environment in which to start a relationship. More often than not, the two of them had just moved past their fights and problems with sex or some other distraction without ever taking a close look at what was wrong. Who had time for introspection when every week there was a new local species of alien trying to destroy their ship? Hell, even his proposal of marriage had come while someone was trying to blow them up.

But things should be different now. They had (mostly) functioning replicators, a large comfortable apartment, actual entire days when they didn't have to report for duty. They had time now - to talk to each other, to work things out. But Tom still made the choice to avoid his problems, and his wife, instead of truly dealing with them. B'Elanna wondered if it was really Tom that needed the space, or if it was her. Maybe what she needed to do right now was take a close hard look at what life without Tom would be like. And if that life might in fact be better - for her and Miral.

She heard the back door of the townhouse open, and went to go see if Kathleen needed help.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw Miral slumped over her aunt's shoulder, eyes shut tight. Tom's sister put a finger to her lips and took the little girl into the guest room. A few minutes later, the tall blonde woman emerged, closing the door softly behind her. She smiled at B'Elanna. "I think someone's having some trouble adjusting to the time difference. She nearly passed out in her ice cream."

"Thanks for watching her," B'Elanna said, then sighed and slumped onto the couch. "I feel like that's all I've been doing since we got here - thanking you."

"Then stop," Kath replied as she joined her on the couch. "We're family. We _are_ , B'Elanna." she said emphatically when she saw the other woman's expression. "This is what sisters do for each other. I love you, and Miral. You can stay as long as you need to. No more gratitude, or apologies. It's really not necessary." She grinned at B'Elanna. "Besides, it's starting to piss me off."

"But…" B'Elanna started to protest.

"But nothing!" Kath interrupted her. "Do you know how depressing my job can be? Being an infectious disease specialist is not all glamour and prestige, you know. Having a little quarter Klingon munchkin wreaking havoc in my home is like a breath of fresh air. You're actually doing _me_ a favor."

"Yeah, right. When's the last time fresh air broke your lamp?" B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "You are good with her, though. She listens to you better than me these days."

"That's just because she's trying to impress me," Kathleen said. She squeezed B'Elanna's hand. "How did your call go?"

"As well as it could, I suppose," said B'Elanna. "Arhan said one of his former students runs the Applied Physics Department at Kyoto University. He thought he could get me a research position there without too much trouble."

"But…?" Kathleen prompted.

"But, it's not really my area of interest. Industrial uses for warp fields, energy production, that sort of thing. And I don't have an advanced degree, so I'd just be doing someone else's grunt work. Not really what I'm looking for." B'Elanna fiddled with the hem of her shirt, and tried to control the anxiety she was feeling about all the uncertainty in her life.

"Maybe," Kathleen said tentatively, "part of the issue is that you're not really in the right place to be making life changing career decisions."

B'Elanna's leg started to bounce. "I've told you how bad Zahne is, Kathleen," she said in a huff. "I can't take it anymore! I knew it years ago, back when I was at the Academy. I've just been fooling myself. I am simply not cut out for Starfleet."

"I get it," the older woman said, pressing her hand on B'Elanna's knee until it stilled. "I know you're frustrated there. You do need to at least request a transfer, if not resign. I just think it might be better to focus on one crisis at a time."

"Well, I tried to deal with the other one," B'Elanna snarled as she jumped up to standing. "But your fucking brother won't fucking talk to me, so I'm kind of at a dead end, aren't I?" She sighed when she noticed her sister-in-law trying unsuccessfully to hide an expression of mild terror. "Sorry. I'm not mad at you."

Kathleen sat up straighter and cleared her throat. "OK," she said with forced brightness. "We'll focus on your professional problems, then. The first thing to figure out is, what do you really want to do? If you didn't have to worry about what kind of degree you have, or Tom, or Miral, or any other boring, practical issues? What's would make you happiest?"

B'Elanna threw up her hands as she paced the living room. "That's just it! I don't know anymore. My whole life has been so tied up with _Voyager_ , or the Maquis, or Tom and Miral for so long, I don't have the first clue what _I_ want." She gave a deep sigh. "When we were on _Voyager_ , after we got married, Tom and I used to talk… Well, it doesn't matter anymore. It was a stupid idea anyway."

"Tell me," Kathleen encouraged. "You are by far the least stupid person I know. And you have to start somewhere."

B'Elanna's face grew hot, embarrassed to be sharing something that now seemed so hopelessly out of reach. "We used to talk about starting our own design firm - starships, shuttles, maybe even ocean-going vessels. Tom really _is_ good at ship design, and I could do all the engineering… It's not exactly something I can do on my own, though," she said ruefully.

"That doesn't mean you have to completely give up on the idea," Kathleen started when the townhouse's comm system began to alarm. "Hold that thought," she said as she rose from the couch. She looked at at her console for a long moment. "Uh, speak of the devil."

"Tom? Again?" B'Elanna fumed. She reached over and hit the dismiss button on the monitor, then grimaced at the look of gentle reproach on Kathleen's face. "What?"

"I'm not going to make excuses for him. He's being a total ass - to you and Miral." Kathleen hesitated, then met B'Elanna's eyes. "But.. you keep saying he won't talk to you - and he's called three times since you got here. And I know how he can be with alcohol when he's in a bad way - I've seen it firsthand. But you said this started only a week ago- after he got sent back into space. Maybe he's getting it together."

B'Elanna turned away from her, wrapping her arms tightly over her chest and growling to herself in frustration. "This isn't the first time, Kath - that Tom's been going through something, and he pulls away from me. This time it's alcohol, maybe next time it will be the holodeck again." She fell quiet, thinking about a time she couldn't pull Tom out from under a holographic car; another when implanted memories of atrocities he didn't commit sent him to a dark place where B'Elanna almost didn't find him again. "It's the same pattern over and over again with him. If I talk to him, he'll rattle off a dozen sad sack apologies; he'll ply me with flowers and promises to be better. And then something else will happen, next week or next month, and we'll be right back to square one." Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'm done, Kathleen. I'm sick and tired of having to fight for him to trust me. I'm his wife, for God's sake! Why can't he just talk to me?"

Kathleen was quiet for a long moment, staring at the floor. Finally she looked at B'Elanna with a sad expression. "I maybe have an idea about that. You know about Caldik Prime? How Tom got kicked out of the 'Fleet his first go 'round?"

"Of course." Except that it really wasn't such a certainty that she would know, was it? It had taken years, actually, for B'Elanna to get the whole story out of him. But a few months before Miral was born, he'd told her the details - the mistakes he had made that day, the people he had gotten killed. B'Elanna remembered thinking at the time that it was something of a breakthrough for him - for him to confide something to her that he'd kept buried for so long. _So much for that,_ she thought now.

"What about after? Has he ever talked to you about what happened after his discharge?"

B'Elanna looked up at this. "You mean, before Chakotay found him? Before the Maquis?" She sat back down, a little surprised at herself that she'd never thought to ask him about it. It was nearly two years of his life, after all. "He's alluded to a lot of drinking, and fighting. But no, I don't really know much about it."

"As I'm sure you've already figured out," Kathleen started, "the Paris family doesn't talk much. At least not about anything too far below the surface. So after Tom was kicked out, it was like he ceased to exist as far as my dad was concerned. Mom was worried, but she refused to actually _do_ anything. We had one hell of a fight about it, let me tell you. Anyway, I decided if anyone was going to drag him back home, it would have to be me. I found him in this crappy pool hall in Marseilles-"

"Do you mean Sandrine's?" B'Elanna interrupted. "It's a crappy pool hall? It always looked kind of... quaint in Tom's holodeck program."

"Ha!" Kathleen snorted. "Those would be some seriously wine colored glasses my brother was wearing when he wrote that program. I don't know, maybe it was 'quaint' a hundred years ago, but when I found him there, it was pretty much a dump."

"Huh," B'Elanna said. "I was wondering why he didn't want to go there when we vacationed in France last year. What's Sandrine herself like?"

Kathleen gave her a strange look. "Um, dead, probably? Or maybe fictional? The old broad that ran the place wore too much makeup, and hit on anything below the age of sixty. Me included. You should have seen the look on her face when she found out Tom and I were brother and sister."

B'Elanna suddenly realized what Kath was getting at. "Eew."

"Eew is right," her sister-in-law agreed. "But I think we're getting off topic. So after I settled his bar bill, I hauled him back to my hotel…"

* * *

Kathleen sat on the edge of the hotel bed, and listened to her little brother snore. Loudly. She'd lured him back here with the promise of a real water shower and a non-replicated meal - neither of which were available in the room he was renting above that terrible bar, but he'd passed out before he'd taken advantage of either.

"Good thing I brought my medkit," she muttered to herself, and she pressed a hypospray loaded with a stimulant to his neck. It was a high dose, and would bring him out of his inebriation more suddenly than was kind and with one hell of a headache; but frankly, the jerk deserved it. Kathleen was fed up with worrying about him.

He sat up with a gasp, then blinked several times. Clearly he was trying to figure out where the hell he was and how he got here. "Kath. Hey," he croaked. He blinked again. "You cut your hair. I don't like it."

"I'm glad I didn't do it for you, then," she said, standing and crossing her arms. "Room service is on the way. You have time to take a shower first. I replicated you some new clothes. They're in the bathroom." Her lip curled upwards. "How about you just trash the ones you're wearing?"

"What's the rush?" he grumped at her.

"We've got a shuttle to catch," she replied. "We need to be at the station in two hours."

He flopped back onto the bed and stretched his arms towards the headboard. "Did I agree to something while I was blacked out? Where are we going?"

"Sunday dinner, of course. Paris family tradition."

Kathleen was lucky she hadn't given Tom authorization to unlock the hotel door - if she had, he would have bolted. As it was, she had to take a call from the front desk staff to inform them that no, she wasn't in any danger and it was just a family argument. And yes, they would certainly keep it down from here on out, and she was very sorry if they had disturbed anyone.

Then, without an ounce of shame, Kathleen described their mother's worry for him in agonizing detail. She may have also used some creative re-imaginings of things their father had said that could be construed as concern for his son's well being. For her grand finale, she casually let it slip that Bones, the ancient family dog, was in the late stages of synaptic failure and would likely need to be put down soon. That did it.

A few hours later, her wayward brother was reluctantly mounting the front steps of the Paris family home. Kathleen practically had to drag him through the door. Bones lumbered up to them, ball in mouth and wagging his little stumpy tail fiercely.

Tom knelt down to scratch his velvety ears. "Hey, boy," he murmured. He looked up at Kath. "Synaptic failure, huh?"

Kathleen looked everywhere but at her brother. "He must be having one of his good days. Weird. Mom!" she called out. "We're home!"

"We? Did you bring a friend?" Julia replied, as she clicked down the hallway towards them. "I really wish you'd tell me these things, Kathleen. I need some-" She stopped in her tracks. "Tom."

Tom stood, his face growing pale as he looked between his mother and his sister. "You didn't tell her? You didn't tell _him_?" He started to back towards the door. "No. No. This is not a good idea. I'm going."

Julia moved towards him and grabbed his arm. "No, Tom. Please. Stay. It's fine. Your father will be… He'll be fine. I'll talk to him first. I'll go right now. He's in his office."

Bones chose this moment to notice that not one single person had thrown the ball he'd obviously dropped for that very activity. Plus, the ear scratching had stopped. This was not acceptable. Canine problem solving skills being rather limited, he decided barking would be the best solution to this highly annoying conundrum.

"Julia!" Owen Paris bellowed as he stuck his head out from his office door. "What's that damn dog going on about?" Seeing the three people that were now frozen in place in the foyer, he slowly came out of his office. "Thomas."

* * *

B'Elanna knew enough about Owen and how little he liked surprises to guess what came next. "I suppose dinner didn't go well," she sighed.

"Dinner didn't go at all," Kathleen said, her voice full of emotion. "We never even made it out of the foyer. B'Elanna, it was awful. I knew Dad was harder on Tom than the rest of us, and you know how much Mom and I battle it out. But this… I barely recognized my own father, with the things he was saying. Tom was nothing, he'd never be anything but a disappointment, he'd broken his mother's heart and destroyed his family's reputation. At one point he said, 'You get your friends killed and lie about it, and you think I'd ever let you in this house again?' And Tom just stood there. Didn't defend himself, didn't try to leave. He just let Dad scream himself out. Like he thought he deserved every word."

B'Elanna gave Kathleen a sympathetic look, her sister-in-law obviously still troubled by what had happened so many years ago.

"After Dad went back to his office and slammed the door, Tom just turned around and walked out without a word. Mom and I were both so stunned - we just stood there. By the time I snapped out of it and went after him, he was gone. And I mean _gone_. Not in France, not anywhere on Earth. We didn't hear anything about him again until his arrest." Kathleen made a quick swipe at her eyes and took a shaky breath. "Dad knew how guilty Tom felt about Caldik Prime, and he attacked him with it. He _wanted_ to hurt him - his own son! It was weeks before Dad and I spoke again. Having a parent do to you what my father did to Tom - you don't get over it quickly."

B'Elanna folded her legs onto the couch, and rested her chin on her knees, considering the kindest way to say what needed to be said. Despite all of Kathleen's work on the more impoverished non-Federation planets, sometimes she still seemed so sheltered. It's not that B'Elanna didn't feel bad for Tom - his relationship with Owen when he was growing up had been so fraught. But this had all happened some fifteen years ago! At least Owen cared enough to be present, even if he'd made some mistakes along the way. B'Elanna would have been thrilled if John Torres had been involved enough in her childhood to be angry or disappointed with her - all she had from _her_ father was a handful of birthday cards. Besides, Owen wasn't even like that anymore, not really. She took a deep breath.

"I know all this, Kathleen. I mean, not the details, but I know Owen was tough on him. I know Tom has a hard time with sharing his feelings - especially the bad ones. But at some point… I'm not Owen! I've been there for him - over and over again. And he still can't trust me? How else can I prove myself to him? Why do I even have to anymore?"

"I don't know why," Kathleen said with compassion. "I just know that I love him. And I love you. And when you guys are good together, you're _really good_ together. And it breaks my heart that you might be giving up on him." She twisted a long blonde strand of hair between her fingers. "When Aerin told me she wanted a divorce… I was blindsided. I had no idea how unhappy she was. Because I was too caught up in my patients, and my research, and God knows what else to really _see_ her."

B'Elanna shook her head. "This is a totally different situation. Aerin was unfair to you. She should have told you how unhappy she was, instead of finding someone else like she did."

"Maybe she assumed I wouldn't listen." Her sister-in-law paused. "But you're right - your situation is different. The point I'm trying to make is, I wish she had been willing to _fight_ for us. Yelled at me, or forced me to go counseling, something. Anything but just let our relationship slip away like it did. All I'm saying is - please fight for Tom. Just a little bit longer?"

B'Elanna hugged her knees tightly and shrugged, not sure what else there was to say. Ironic, that she had spent her whole life being told to stay out of fights, to stop being so Klingon about everything, and now that's exactly what her sister-in-law wanted her to do. She had it in her, she knew she did. She could still fight for herself, and for Miral, and for their marriage. But what was the point if Tom wasn't willing to fight, too?


	11. Chapter 11

"You sure this is what you want?" the massive bartender grunted as he poured the amber colored liquid into Tom's glass.

"It's what I asked for, isn't it?" Tom snapped at him. His headache was bad enough without having this Terrellian question his drink choices. The man shrugged and moved away to serve his more pleasant customers.

Tom swirled the whiskey in his glass as he waited for Khau. She was late, but Tom didn't mind. He needed to work up some courage for this conversation anyway. He heard a low whistle from near the bar's entrance and turned. _There she is._

Even in the desexualizing Starfleet jumpsuits, Damaris Khau was a striking woman. Like most humans, she was a blend of a half dozen different ethnicities, but mostly Chinese and Kenyan. She was nearly as tall as Tom, lean and wiry, and kept her dark hair cut short. Tonight she was wearing civvies, her sleeveless shirt revealing her well-defined arms and some of the ink that she once told Tom was on every surface that was covered by her 'Fleet uniform. Given her appearance, she was used to garnering plenty of unwanted attention from the more uncouth members of Mars society. Mostly she ignored these overtures, unless she was in a particularly bad mood.

Tonight, she shut down the greasy looking source of the whistle with no more than a withering glance. Tom chuckled along with the embarrassed man's tablemates as he turned back to the bar.

Khau mounted the stool next to him, and raised a hand at the bartender to get his attention.

"If we're going to drink every night, do we have to do it here?" she said by way of greeting.

"Not fancy enough for you, Khau?" he said, as he sipped from his glass.

"Not enough for you, Paris. You're the upstanding family man, with the illustrious ancestry, after all," she replied. "Why do you insist on getting drunk at the diviest dive on the entire planet?"

"It appeals to my baser instincts," he said. "And, more importantly, I'm not likely to run into anyone I know." _Or that knows my father_.

Khau let out a frustrated noise when the bartender persisted in ignoring her. "What did you do to piss him off?" Tom shrugged in response, and she began to drum her fingers on the bar.

As Tom continued to slowly swirl the contents of his glass in silence, he noted that Khau was staring at him. "What?" he said finally.

"We've come here every night for the past six nights," Khau began.

"Yup."

"I don't think you've said ten words in all that time," she continued.

He squinted at her. "Not true. By my count, it's been at least... fifteen." He turned back to his drink.

"Ha. Ha. Ha," she said slowly. "I'm a patient woman." Tom nodded at this. "And I'm not much of a talker." Another nod. "But this week, I'm chattier than a fucking Bolian compared to you. Can you please tell me what the hell is going on in that pretty blond head of yours?"

"B'Elanna left me. She took Miral with her," Tom replied flatly.

"Oh. Shit." Khau scratched at the back of her head, clearly uncomfortable. "I guess that explains all the drinking we've been doing. I'm sorry. You should have said something. I could have given you a few days' leave."

"What? No," he said, shaking his head. "She just left this morning. Or maybe it was last night. I'm a little fuzzy on the details."

Khau looked perplexed. "Now I'm back to not having an explanation for all the drinking. Although I guess I don't have to ask you why your wife left. You've been spending more time with Mr. Friendly over there than her this week," she said, waving again in a futile attempt to get the bartender to serve her.

"I can't do this anymore," Tom said.

"The drinking?" Khau asked. "No. You really can't. I'm pretty sure your liver agrees, too."

"No, Maris," he said, finally turning to look his CO in the eye. "Starfleet. I'm going to resign my commission."

Her expression changed to one of sympathy. "Is this still about Prieto? We've talked about this. It was _not_ your fault."

"You keep saying that. But maybe if I'd taken that shot, if I hadn't hesitated…"

"They were following her, Tom," Khau said, in the tone of someone repeating phrases she'd said many times before. "They already knew. She called for extraction too late. The two of us were never getting her out of there. If you'd taken that shot, taken that Andaran out - they probably would have decided one hostage was plenty, and killed you, too. You have to let this go."

"It doesn't matter," Tom said, shaking his head. "It's not just about her, anyway. It's everything. This was never where I meant to be. And I'm sure as hell not willing to lose my family over a career I never wanted."

"You're going to need to explain yourself a little better than that, Paris, if I'm going to lose my best officer. And I'm going to need a drink to get through that explanation. But since our local barkeep isn't obliging…" She reached for Tom's glass, and threw back a swallow.

Which she promptly spit out all over the bar. "This is synthehol!" she cried in shock, as Tom felt an involuntary grin stretch across his face. "You could warn a person!"

"Sorry," he chuckled. "As a means of reparation, I'll buy you a drink. A real one." He glanced at the bartender that was angrily stomping towards them and slid off his stool. "Somewhere else."

Once Tom started talking to Khau, he couldn't seem to stop. He started with telling her about the pressure his father had put him under as a child and how Owen's capture by the Cardassians pushed him to apply for a spot at the Academy that he'd never really wanted. By the time they settled into a quiet pub in a nicer neighborhood, he'd told her all about Caldik Prime, and how alcohol and his unhappiness with Starfleet lead directly to his friends' deaths. Khau's eyebrows climbed to her hairline as he shared some of his _Voyage_ r stories. He explained how that was the first time he'd felt at home on a starship, and how being part of Janeway's crew had given them all a common goal - a feeling he'd been missing since their return to Alpha Quadrant. She was well into her second drink when he told her that ever since their capture by the ZFT, being aboard the _Tyr_ had been a kind of torture - every time he'd taken his seat at the conn, he'd had to fight to keep his panic at bay and he felt like he was abandoning his wife and daughter all over again.

He took a long draught from his glass then, his throat dry from talking. Khau just sat there, blinking at him, mouth slightly agape. "I think you have me confused with someone else," she said, after a time. "My major at the Academy was Defense and Strategic Studies. I feel like you should be telling this to someone with a psychology degree. Or, I don't know, maybe your fucking wife?"

"B'Elanna would be in full agreement with you." He smiled at her with chagrin. "I guess I had some stuff to get off my chest."

"Ya think?" she said dryly. "Look, Tom. I'm not your father. You're a good officer, but I don't want you here if you don't want to be here." She shook her head. "And that little monologue of yours made it pretty clear where you want to be." Her expression turned kinder then. "As someone who's managed to launch a photon torpedo at every romantic relationship she's ever had, I fully support anyone who can make a commitment to another person like that. Hell, I'll even fly you to Earth if you want. We've still got the next two days off."

He gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Maris. You're a good friend. And a good CO. You didn't make this decision an easy one."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Thanks for throwing me a bone. But I'm sure it wasn't all that hard. After all, you're a lucky man. Your wife is hot as fuck."

He laughed out loud. "Sorry you're going to have a find a new wingman."

Khau waved him off. "Please. You've been holding me back. I wasn't going to find a quality person at that shithole you keep dragging me to." She glanced around the wood paneled room they were in. "And everyone here is too damn old."

An evil grin crossed Tom's features. "You know, Harry Kim has a bit of a crush on you."

Khau's forehead creased, clearly trying to place the name. "Kim?" she asked, after a pause. "Your friend from _Voyager_? The guy from the _Sun Tzu_?"

"That's the one," Tom confirmed.

She cocked her head at him. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Paris, but doesn't he have a penis?"

"I assume so. I've never verified it personally," he said, sipping his synthetic lager.

"Does he know I don't like penises?" Khau continued.

"Doubtful. But it is an old pattern for him - the more unattainable the woman, the more attractive she is to Harry." Tom chuckled at the memory of many an anguished conversation with his poor lovelorn friend over the years.

Khau leaned back in her chair, taking a swallow of her whiskey. "He probably doesn't want me enough to get rid of his penis, though."

"No," Tom agreed. "Probably not. You know what, though, I should introduce you to my sister. She's single. No penis."

"I'll consider it. But only if she's as pretty as you are."


	12. Chapter 12

Tom looked at the front door of his sister's townhouse, blinking in the bright California sun. He hadn't a drop of real alcohol in over forty eight hours, and yet he still felt a vague inclination to vomit all over the sidewalk. He was a big enough man to admit that he was a little terrified his wife was going to kill him. He was even more afraid that she no longer cared enough about him to do so.

"Have you not been here before?" Khau asked, as she stood beside him. "Are we in the wrong place?"

"Nope," he said. "This is it."

"Do you want to go get her some flowers or something?" she asked, frowning at him. "I would never deign to give anyone relationship advice, but when you've fucked up as badly as you have - aren't flowers kind of _de rigueur_?"

"No," Tom shook his head firmly. "That's the wrong message." He continued when Khau looked at him, perplexed. "That's what I always do. I mess up, I bring flowers. I want her to know this is different. I'm different."

"OK," Khau said skeptically, then shrugged. "She's your wife. Either way, I think the first step is knocking on the door."

"Yeah," he murmured. He looked at his soon to be former CO. "Maybe you should stay here. Or go get a coffee or something?"

Khau made a face at him. "I'm not going to eavesdrop on your conversation or anything, Paris. I just want to meet your kid. Believe it or not, I like kids. Besides, you promised me a hot sister."

Tom scratched his head, and shifted his weight. "The thing is… B'Elanna's not your biggest fan." He paused, knowing it was a bad idea to tell her the whole story. "I guess you came off a little… callous. At the hospital."

"That's because I am callous," she scoffed. "She'll learn to love me. Or tolerate me, at least. Let's go."

 _Damn it_ , thought Tom. _The whole story it is, then_. He put a hand out to stop her from going up the stairs. "She may have also thought that… We were spending a lot of time together, after all. And she was really angry with me. So she may have thought that we… well, you know."

Khau's eyes grew wide as Tom stumbled over his explanation. "She thought that you were cheating on her? With me?" She started to chuckle. "She thought that...oh my God... you and me? Having sex? Together?" The chuckle soon evolved into full-on hysterical paroxysms of laughter.

Tom frowned at her, arms crossed. "It's not _that_ funny."

Khau shook her head, bent over with tears streaming down her face. "It is, Paris," she wheezed. "It really is."

They both jumped a moment later when the door at the top of the short flight of stairs slammed shut. "Thomas Eugene Paris!"

"Hey," Khau said, standing and wiping her eyes. "You weren't wrong. She _is_ prettier than you."

"Oh crap," Tom muttered as Kathleen thundered down the stairs towards him, flashing back to a long ago time when his big sister caught him programming mustaches onto a holo-photo of all her favorite parrises squares players.

Kathleen slammed her brother in the shoulder with her fist. "What the hell is the matter with you?" she demanded.

"Ow!" he whined, rubbing his arm. "That's the one that got dislocated, you know."

Kathleen rolled her eyes. "Please. It's been over a month, it doesn't hurt anymore."

Well no, but Tom wasn't going to tell her that. "What are you so mad about, anyway?" he asked, still rubbing. Kathleen was _his_ sister, wasn't she? Wasn't she supposed to be on his side in this?

"You better not be drunk!" she threatened, ignoring his question and slapping his hand away from the shoulder she just assaulted. "Or hungover! Goddamn it, Tom, B'Elanna is the best thing that ever happened to you. Do not screw this up!"

"I'm not! Drunk or hungover, that is." Tom supposed it wasn't fair for him to expect his sister to take his side when he was so clearly in the wrong. Again. He sighed. "But there's always a good chance I'm going to screw it up. Shit, Kath. How mad is she?"

Kathleen blew her hair out of her face and regarded him with a look of deep pity. "Tom. Her being mad isn't the issue. This isn't like when you were nine and busted the lock on Moira's diary."

Worst fears realized. If B'Elanna was past being mad at him… "She's not angry at me? Not at all?" he asked hesitantly.

"Oh no," Kathleen reassured him, "She's pissed as hell. But the real problem is that she's losing faith in you. She's beginning to think you don't care about your marriage." Tom felt a brief moment of relief before Kathleen hauled off and nailed him in the shoulder again. "So show her otherwise, you idiot!"

"Will you stop that?" he yelped. "And I'm trying to show her. Why do you think I came here?"

"Well, good," his sister said, although she still sounded dubious. "Because I was just about ready to fly to Mars and haul your ass back to Earth myself." She gave Khau an appraising look, as if she had just noticed her for the first time. "Who's this? Did you bring a bodyguard?"

"Damaris Khau," the other woman nearly shouted in response, thrusting her hand at Kathleen so abruptly she almost stumbled. Tom's brow furrowed at his CO's uncharacteristic awkwardness.

"Commander Khau," Tom clarified, giving Maris a sidelong glance. "She's-"

"Daddy!"

Tom's face broke into a wide grin as a little blur of polka dotted dress and brown curls came hurtling down the sidewalk towards him. "Hiya, Kitten!" he exclaimed as his daughter ran into his arms. He threw her into the air, and gave her a kiss on the cheek as he caught her again. As he clutched his daughter, taking in the sweet berry scent of her shampoo, he wondered how he could ever stand to leave her again. "I missed you," he murmured into her soft hair, feeling his eyes begin to tear.

"Miral!" B'Elanna called out. "I've told you before - you can't run ahead…" His wife paused, still several meters away. "Tom."

* * *

B'Elanna had spent the bulk of the day with Miral at the holo-zoo, desperate for distraction. Tom had tried calling again, but Kathleen had been at the hospital and wasn't there to cajole her into talking to him. What was the point? He was just going to make all the same tired excuses B'Elanna had heard a hundred times before. But he never changed anything. If he loved them enough, loved _her_ enough - he'd be able to change, wouldn't he? Or at least try to? Maybe he had decided she just wasn't worth the effort.

Sitting in the house all day - half of her hoping he'd call again, the other half knowing she'd be tempted to smash the comm console the second his face appeared on it - was not an option. So she let her daughter tear around the expansive zoological park, darting from one display to another. B'Elanna could have done without the piped in "authentic" animal smells, but otherwise it had been a good diversion for them both.

"Are those real, Momma?" Miral asked her at one exhibit, bouncing against the railing with excitement.

"Let me check," B'Elanna said absently, glancing at the signage. "They were - they used to live in central Africa and some other places here on Earth. They went extinct, though." Weird to think that these unlikely looking creatures used to actually exist - as big as a shuttlecraft with a massive horn protruding from their noses. How did such an implausible thing evolve?

"Can we go to Africa? To see a real one?" the little girl pleaded, pulling on her mother's shirt.

"No, Sweetie," B'Elanna replied as she pulled her daughter to the next animal. "Extinct means there aren't any left."

"Where did they go?" Miral demanded.

"I don't know," B'Elanna said as they wandered over to look at the lions. "Sometimes animals were hunted too much. Sometimes it was because there wasn't enough of the right kind of land for them to live on anymore. Or maybe it was just that they weren't very good at adapting to change."

B'Elanna was grateful she had brought their stroller when Miral passed out halfway through their train ride back to Kathleen's neighborhood. It meant, however, that when her daughter awoke, fully recharged, B'Elanna couldn't keep up when she took off down the sidewalk a block away from the townhouse.

"I'm going to have to start strapping that kid down," she muttered to herself as she tried to secure her raktajino before she took off after her child. "Miral!" she shouted. "I've told you before - you can't run ahead…" She froze as she rounded the corner and spotted who was on the sidewalk in the front of her sister-in-law's home. "Tom."

There he was, his eyes bloodshot, holding their daughter in his arms. Miral couldn't have looked happier. And he wasn't alone, of course. He had to bring Damaris fucking Khau since apparently she was his new best friend. God, he hadn't even bothered to bring her flowers. So much for trying.

"Hey," was all he had to say for himself.

She let out a short huff of air as she came closer to the small group. _I will be civil_ , she told herself firmly. "What are you doing here?" she demanded. One glance at her daughter's startled face told her how successful she'd been at achieving civility.

"I came to see Miral. And you," he said. She could see his jaw tense. "That's allowed, isn't it?"

"You could have warned me," she countered. "What if we had plans?"

"I tried to call, B'Elanna," he responded, his voice rising. "About a dozen times. You didn't answer."

"Miral!" Kathleen interjected, grabbing her niece from her brother. "Let's go look at this new picture book I found. It's about a funny duck family trying to cross a street."

"I like ducks," Khau offered.

Kathleen cocked her head. "Well," she said after a pause, "You should come, too, then." She looked at B'Elanna. "We'll be on the deck. So the house will be empty. If you two need to talk." She pointed at the stroller. "Bring that," she said to Khau and walked through the narrow passageway that led to her back yard.

"I guess that's her way of saying she doesn't want her neighbors to hear us fighting," Tom said. He extended his arm up the stairs. "Shall we?"

She'd be damned if she was going to let him dictate how this was going to go. "What's _she_ doing here?" she asked, not moving from her spot on the sidewalk.

Tom's arm fell to his side. "We came on the _Tyr_. It was a lot faster than waiting for a public shuttle."

"Convenient," she said as she marched past him into the house. "Are you coming or not?"

B'Elanna walked over to the window that gave Kathleen's house a view of Coronado's famed beach. She saw Khau and Kath sitting in the covered porch swing on either side of Miral, all three of them laughing. _Damn it_ , she thought. _My raktajino is still in the stroller_. Her hands twitched for lack of something to do. She heard Tom walk in slowly behind her, and knew he was standing there, just staring. If he thought she was going to make this easy for him, he was dead wrong.

"So," he started. "I suppose you were expecting me to bring flowers. Make excuses. Say I'm sorry and promise that I'll be better about talking to you."

"That's your usual MO," she said without turning around.

"I know," he agreed. "And it obviously hasn't gotten us very far." His tone was odd. Tentative. Not like Tom at all. Was he nervous about something? He'd never been afraid of her temper before, not really.

"Which is why I've made a decision," he continued. "You're probably not going to like it. And it's not going to make things easy for you. But it's something I have to do, B'Elanna. I feel like I'm drowning the way things are now. And I just can't see another way to swim up." He cleared his throat. "Sorry. I'm not saying this very well."

She felt her stomach fall and her heart start banging against her ribs. He was going off-book. No pleading for forgiveness. No defensive posturing, or thin excuses. What was he trying to say?

"A lot of things are going to have to change. But we can figure it out." He came closer and tried to place his hands on her shoulders. "We can-"

It was as if the world were covered with a haze of red. Her blood rushed through her ears. "Stop!" she shouted as she rounded on him. "Just stop talking! I don't want to hear it!"

He took a step back, his hands raised in supplication. "B'Elanna-"

No. She wasn't going to give him a chance to make even one lousy excuse as to why he had to leave her, and Miral; why their family wasn't as important as his fucking _feelings_. She didn't care if he didn't feel fulfilled, or if he wanted to go run off with Khau, or whatever pathetic reason he'd come up with to justify his cowardice. " _PetaQ!_ " she snarled as she pushed past him to leave the house.

Her hand froze as she reached to the door's control panel. Miral. She couldn't leave Miral here. She needed her things. She needed to pack her a bag. She needed somewhere to go. Her father? No. God, no. Maybe Arhan would let them stay for awhile. And then what? Kyoto? She could take the job at Kyoto.

"B'Elanna."

She swallowed hard. Tom's voice was in her ear, he'd come up right behind her and she hadn't even noticed in her panic. "What?" she choked out. "What could you possibly have to say for yourself?"

"B'Elanna," he repeated gently. "I'm trying to tell you that I want to resign. From Starfleet. I'm going to give up my commission."

She turned slowly away from the door. This time she didn't stop him when he reached for her. "That's the decision you made? You want to leave Starfleet?" She let herself feel his strong hands clasp hers and stared at his chest, not trusting herself to meet his eyes yet.

He took one of his hands from hers, and tilted her chin until she was forced to meet his eyes. They were wet with tears. "What else would I possibly want to leave?" he asked her.

B'Elanna's vision cleared and she let her lungs fill with air again. "Why the hell didn't you just _say_ that?" she asked him, exasperated and relieved and hating him and loving him all at once.

He let out a little laugh as he folded her in his embrace. "I thought you'd be upset that I was resigning; that we didn't even talk about it first. I know you want me to stay in the 'Fleet."

She pulled away from him again, but this time just in confusion. "What are you talking about? I don't give two shits about Starfleet. I'm thinking about leaving myself."

Tom's perplexed expression reflected her own. "I think," he said after a moment, "that we really need to talk."

And then they were off.

"I had no idea Zahne was such an asshole. Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't think you needed something else to worry about. You'd been through a lot."

"Before, B'Elanna! It's not like he spontaneously became a dick the day I got captured. You could have told me before. For someone who's always on me to talk more, you sure play your cards close to the vest."

"I didn't _want_ you off Mars. I just thought you were bored! That you needed to do some real flying - flex your muscles a little."

"When did I ever complain about that? I said what was most important to me was being with you and Miral! Did you think I was lying?"

"It's not like there hasn't been precedent, Tom! That stupid holographic car. Or does the name Alice mean anything to you?"

"You're going to throw _that_ back in my face? It was almost five years ago!"

"Why couldn't you just talk to me about this?"

"I don't know! Maybe it's because you weren't there. I didn't think you'd understand."

"Why the hell not? It's not like I've lived some sheltered life, Tom. I've been through some pretty awful shit myself, you know."

"I know that! But… I barely understand it! How could I explain something to you when it doesn't make sense to me?"

"It makes me feel like you don't care about me, or you don't trust me - when you withdraw like that."

"I'm sorry - I never want you to doubt that I love you. This was never about our marriage. Or Miral. Except… maybe it is."

"What do you mean?"

"I was so scared. I've never been so scared. It's not like I haven't been through other stuff - just as bad, or even worse. But it's different now. With you at home, and Miral. I can't stop thinking about what will happen to the two of you - if I'm gone. And it's not going away. Every time I get on that damn ship… I feel like I'm falling apart. It's pathetic."

"It's not pathetic."

"And then when you said I couldn't handle it - I shouldn't go back. God, it made me so _angry_ \- it was like you were calling me weak."

"I didn't mean it that way."

"I wanted to prove you wrong; and show my father, too - that I could get back out there. But when you left, when I thought you might have left for good, I realized none of the rest of it matters. I don't want to do this alone anymore. I can't do this alone."

"You don't have to."

They'd been sitting in near silence for several minutes, B'Elanna gently rubbing Tom's back, when there was a quiet knock on the patio doors. Kathleen poked her head in. "You guys seem like you're going to be awhile, so we're taking this munchkin out for pizza."

"We?" B'Elanna asked. In response, she saw Khau stick her head through the gap in the door and wink at her husband. Then both women disappeared back outside.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

Tom was grinning now, in contrast to his reddened eyes. "I told you - there is no way that Khau and I would ever sleep together. Ever."

"Didn't you tell me that Harry has a crush on her?"

He was outright giggling now. "Yup!"

B'Elanna shook her head. "Figures. Nothing ever changes, does it?"

Her husband stilled then, his smile morphing into something more loving. "Just the things that need to."

* * *

 ***Epilogue***

B'Elanna leaned into her husband's warmth as they made their way through Pacific Heights. The sun had gone behind the clouds again, and the air was damp, but Tom kept his arm firmly wrapped around her as they walked. When they reached the Paris' ancestral home, they looked up to see their daughter waving frantically at them from an upstairs window.

"She looks lonely," Tom commented. "We should get another one."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes as she waved back at Miral. "We're in marriage counseling, just met with a lawyer to talk about starting a new business, and you want to have a _baby_?"

"Sure," Tom said, grinning down at her. "And a dog. We should get a dog."

"Forget it, Flyboy," she replied, shaking her head and starting up the stairs. "Come on. We're going to be late for dinner."

"We're fine," he assured her. "Let's wait out here for Kath and Maris to show up."

"Kath sent me a message - they're running late. And I'm freezing!" she complained. "Let's go!" Once at the top of the stairs she turned to see that her husband had yet to move. He looked all of ten years old. "He'll get over it, Tom."

"Do we have to tell him?" he asked, biting his lip. "Can't we just… I don't know, let him figure it out for himself that we're resigning?"

"Oh yeah, that will be much better," she said as she jogged back down to where he was. She planted herself behind him and pushed. "Go on. Get in there. I'll tell him. You just have to sit there and not say anything too obnoxious."

"But I'm terrible at that!" he whined as he stumbled upwards.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, she stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "That's true. But this will be OK. All that matters is that we're happy, right? And together?"

"Right," he nodded, although he looked less than convinced. He blinked at her when the sun reappeared and bathed the porch in late afternoon light. "Everything will be OK." He glanced over at his parents' front door. "You promise?"

"Absolutely," she said and reached for his hand. He took it and they walked into the house.

 **The End**

 **A/N:** Thanks to everyone who came along with me and Tom and B'Elanna on this little journey. I hope you enjoyed it! Much gratitude to all that left reviews! They are all very appreciated. And many, many thanks again to Sareki02 and Photogirl1890 for all their help getting this story to its current state. If you like reading P/T stories, they both have several fantastic ones!


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